Prom a knot of idlers at a public-house, he learnt that Jonathan Wild had just ridden past, and that his setters were scouring the country in every direction. “Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. " "What is this to me, Sir?" said Trenchard, cutting him short. The elastic spirits of youth resumed their sway; and, before the coach stopped, his tears had ceased to flow. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. Little Anna screamed and thrashed as she was torn from Lucy’s skirts.
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