Of this boy she had only caught a glimpse;—but that glimpse was sufficient to satisfy her it was her son,—and, if she could have questioned her own instinctive love, she could not question her antipathy, when she beheld, partly concealed by a pillar immediately in the rear of the woollen-draper, the dark figure and truculent features of Jonathan Wild. “Don’t ask me to tell you all that women can do, all that women can be. An ugly flush stained his cheeks. He bowed over her hand, venturing to drop a kiss on it’s leathery surface.
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