’ Lucilla Froxfield laughed gaily. Bounding the corner of a garden wall, he came upon his former place of imprisonment. She had been married four times: three of her husbands died of hempen fevers; and the fourth, having been twice condemned, was saved from the noose by Jonathan Wild, who not only managed to bring him off, but to obtain for him the situation of under-turnkey in Newgate. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. He stood still, almost breathless. The monster, Wild, when he visited my dungeon last night, told me, to add to my misery, that she occupied a cell near me. On gaining a stack of chimneys at the back of the house, he came to a pause, and again unmasked his lantern. She turned there, clasped her hands behind her back and put up her chin. At least here she was safe. “Confound sex from first to last!” said Ann Veronica.
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