"And now, mark me. She had fallen into it naturally, the only expression of the dance she had ever seen or known, and that a stolen sweet. Rain changed to hail, then 154 sleet, then snow. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. ’ A faint smile crossed Gerald’s lips.
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