” She turned a firelit face to her husband. 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. I'm not quite such a greenhorn as Shotbolt, Jack, whatever you may think. "An hour hence, I shall be beyond your malice," said Mrs.
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