"My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. “But of course it’s aunt’s doing really. You are not with the Kent militia, are you?’ ‘West Kent, yes. "Concerning whom?" "Mrs. “I think as I feel in a good humour it must be the latter. I took the money myself, and ought to know. ’ ‘What son?’ asked Roding. Your attitude to me—” He fell into a brown study. To have the present lengthen into years! But in a few hours she would be upon her way, far lonelier than she had ever been.
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