She was in a very uncritical state that afternoon. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. His blood would be sweet with it. In the midst of the holy place, which he had formerly profaned, lay the body of his unfortunate mother, and he could not help looking upon her untimely end as the retributive vengeance of Heaven for the crime he had committed. “I have found out at last what a useless person I am —from a utilitarian point of view. So appalling was the sight, that even the murderers—familiar as they were with scenes of slaughter,—looked aghast at it. "She is my lawful wife. How Jonathan Wild's House was burnt down 458 XXXI.
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