" Thames glanced at the despatch, and, after a moment's reflection, inquired, "In what way is the attempt upon my life to be made?" "That I couldn't ascertain," replied Jack; "but I advise you to be upon your guard. That window there…. He's on the ragged edge. My mom doesn’t realize that I’ve got my own style. Once she heard him mutter, and she leaned down. . . " "Zounds!" exclaimed Wood; "it's my old master-key. 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. Each one had been different from the others, each had had a quality all its own, a distinctive freshness, a distinctive beauty.
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