“Does he live here?” he asked her presently. 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. ‘You! Tell this fool who is the keeper here to come to me at once. ‘What is it that you told him?’ ‘Nothing, miss, I swear.
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