“Do you know,” she said, “that every one is remarking how ill you look. My poor brain is so mixed, dear, I hardly know what I am saying. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself. “Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. ’ She simpered, and withdrew one hand so that she might smack his fingers playfully. No one spoke, and she was impelled to flounder on. But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly. Uttering a terrible imprecation, Blueskin placed the knife between his teeth, and endeavoured to seize the poor woman by the throat. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. They smelled good, but they no longer smelled like food.
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