"My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. ‘That’s a loud one. ‘He was very kind to me. “Let’s go outside. Capes sat watching and admiring her, and then he fell praising the day and fortune and their love for each other. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls.
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