Turning, she flew for the nearest door. ” “But it is too late,” she declared. 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. And how much I owe you, too, dearest Winifred, for your kindness and attention. “We are both of us trenching upon forbidden ground,” she said.
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