His countenance was almost as white and rigid as that of the corpse by his side. The packets were hastily broken open; and, while Wood was absorbed in the perusal of the despatch addressed to him by Sir Rowland, Thames sought out, and found the letter which he had been prevented from finishing on the fatal night at Jonathan Wild's. The more haste, the worse speed—better the feet slip than the tongue. He barely shook the rose petals from her hair.
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