"My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. ’ With care, she gave it an English pronunciation. Anything else that was said she now regarded only as an aspect of or diversion from that. I made a wrong choice, it seems—but my voice remains. She was dressed for the street very much as her own maid was accustomed to dress, and there was a thick veil attached to her hat. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. In military circles, highly exaggerated tales of Major Alderley’s derring-do were bruited from lip to lip and passed on to raw recruits to strengthen morale. He had forgiven everybody.
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