He wanted to put on his overcoat and come after you and look for you—in London. She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. 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.
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