But her great-aunt was nodding, as if this was what she had expected. ‘Why did you bring him? I hate him. Well, I was all for dragging in Bow Street there and then, and getting the pair of those fraudsters thrown in gaol. After all, you may easily come to fetch Mrs Ibstock when you need her. Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard. I keep on thinking of little details and aspects of your voice, your eyes, the way you walk, the way your hair goes back from the side of your forehead. This is simply a chapter of coincidences. Love—admiration for your matchless beauty alone sways me. She entered quietly and padded up to her shared bedroom. She is more dear to me than anything else.
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