" The poor widow hung her head, and pressed her child closer to her breast. And the change, the change of attitude! The way all the old clingingness has been thrown aside is amazing. 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. ” Capes watched the limpid water dripping from his oar. She had not thought anything could equal her despair at that moment.
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