"I give you one minute for reflection. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. Stimulated by the promise of something handsome to drink, the man acquitted himself to admiration in the management of his lazy cattle. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine.
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