" "A miniature! Of whom?" "That I can't say," replied Jack, mysteriously. "You read it, Ruth. ‘I must get a handkerchief. In this state of knowledge you will be horribly, irrevocably, alone. Then a surge of rage welled up. The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild's door. The fatal shower, from which he and his little charge escaped uninjured, had stricken his assailant and precipitated him into the boiling gulf. She had flung away from her father’s support with the finest assumption of personal independence. There was the world besides, looming darker and larger. It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman.
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