By a sort of instinct. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. “Begin violence, and the woman goes under. And you don’t know what led to our separation. “It is very, very difficult,” she continued, looking steadfastly at the ground. I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. " "It's Jonathan Wild," returned the widow, endeavouring to alarm him. " "Have you told her?" "Told her? Told her what?" Spurlock sat straight in his chair. “Oh, but life is difficult!” she groaned. ‘You speak as if you expected to meet her again, Gerald.
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