He had a handsome, jolly-looking face; stood six feet two in his stockings; and measured more than a cloth-yard shaft across the shoulders—athletic proportions derived from his father the dragoon. “I have no wish,” he said, “to altogether ignore the fact that you are my wife’s sister, and have therefore a certain claim upon me. She wanted him, she needed sex, but the two ideas had not formed an equation where a concrete result could be deduced. Jonathan Wild's House in the Old Bailey.
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