He has no imagination, no real generosity. But here,—even here, the demon was suffered to intrude, and Jack's thoughts were distracted by Jonathan Wild, who stood at a little distance from him, and kept his bloodthirsty eyes fixed on him during the whole of the service. It was the grand nursery of vice. “Sorry to be so terribly rude, Martin. " "'Tis he, by Heaven!" cried Jonathan; "this is lucky. Set yourself to find it out, if you will—but if you do, never dare to call yourself my friend again. ‘That is what she wants, is it?’ ‘Do you blame her?’ he said stiffly. He encouraged her to join him in his debauchery.
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