“Does a bear shit in the woods?” He said. “It’s—private. " "I'm sorry I can't indulge you," replied her master, a little piqued. He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. “I think everything’s right,” said Ann Veronica, with the roaming eye of a capable but not devoted house-mistress. The chapel was again crowded with visitors, and every eye—even that of Jonathan Wild who had come thither to deride him,—was fixed upon him.
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