CHAPTER II. If I had never met anything of you at all but a scrap of your skin binding a book, Ann Veronica, I know I would have kept that somewhere near to me. Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard. I meant to give him a drubbing. How came you, Sir," he continued, addressing Sheppard, "to venture upon that frame. I almost wish we hadn't come. Lucy could see her striding down a Parisian catwalk quite easily. Wily little devil she is. “Don’t think that I have been playing the spy upon you,” he continued.
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