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“I am very much obliged for the tea,” she said. 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. ‘Why did you bring him? I hate him. You tonic my liver and you tonic my soul. But there was something else; and in his befogged mental state the comparison eluded him. Anna suddenly leaned forward and looked around her. It is not, my dear Veronica, that I think there is any harm in you; there is not. ‘Very well, Kimble.

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