There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house. She was an indignant queen, no doubt she was alarmed and disgusted within limits; but she was highly excited, and there was something, some low adventurous strain in her being, some element, subtle at least if base, going about the rioting ways and crowded insurgent meeting-places of her mind declaring that the whole affair was after all—they are the only words that express it—a very great lark indeed. ‘Dreadfully untidy, is it not? Can’t abide bare rooms. She slept in a bedroom clad in linens and skins, walked down hallways bedecked in the most gay and colorful frescos. My father thought the latter. She pocketed the sum total of his ready cash, about fortyeight dollars. ‘I thought it was his great-nephew, young Brewis Charvill, who is his heir. —Jonathan Wild: August 31st, 1724. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. Jack had got into one of the pens at the north side of the chapel.
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