Ann Veronica said she didn’t care. As the woollendraper's back was towards him, he did not perceive him, but continued his passionate addresses. To her satisfaction, the captain reddened a trifle. It was, Ann Veronica felt, as a sip or so of that remarkable blend warmed her blood, just the sort of thing that her aunt would not approve, to be lunching thus, tete-a-tete with a man; and yet at the same time it was a perfectly innocent as well as agreeable proceeding. The pistol fell to the floor. She marvelled at his apparent imperviousness to the heat. What lends a tragic mockery to all these tender traps of hers was that she was within lawful bounds. "From Jonathan Wild's confidential servant what could be expected but treachery?" With this, he proceeded to dress himself in Quilt Arnold's clothes, pulled the wig over his face and eyes so as completely to conceal his features, slouched the hat over his brows, drew the huge boots above his knees, and muffled himself up in the best way he could.
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