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He felt the first sting of the whip. He looked around, and as he heard that deafening shout,— as he felt the influence of those thousand eyes fixed upon him,—as he listened to the cheers, all his misgivings—if he had any—vanished, and he felt more as if he were marching to a triumph, than proceeding to a shameful death. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. His face was wreathed in smiles, his beringed hand was cordially outstretched. "Hold!" cried Kneebone, flinging down the packets; "they are nothing to me. The future? He dared not speculate upon that. She was too wrapped up in the sheer joy of playing again; it had 201 been intimate, masturbatory.
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