He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. I give you the plain, unadulterated truth. 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. I suppose I ought to have been a man.
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