She HAD cried, Ann Veronica knew. “Who are you?” She asked innocently. I overheard Jonathan Wild's instructions to Quilt Arnold, and though he spoke in slang, and in an under tone, my quick ears, and acquaintance with the thieves' lingo, enabled me to make out every word he uttered. She even touched lightly on her father’s unreasonableness. And she defies me. And then she fell into a musing about Capes. I got myself locked up to cool off.
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