She did not wince. Then came the great day. "You poor child!" said Prudence. I do not blame you for the act. People were not slaves to their gods as they are now, oppressed and unhappy, chained to their mortality and suffering so that they may one day enter an imaginary Heaven. Anna sat with the face of a Sphinx— waiting. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy.
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