He was an imaginative young man. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. I don’t see any good in life if it hasn’t got you in it. While he was thus employed, his nerves underwent a severe shock. Breakfast, too, was an impossible occasion. She hissed in a breath and his eyes met hers.
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