But for a long time, anyhow, we lovers have to be as if we were no more than friends. There are human limitations, and no doubt you reached yours. 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. "You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door. There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner. I can't help looking at you frequently. Niente. That would be an unkind twist of fate.
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