“I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. Everything. She spoke with fluent enthusiasm. 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. As it was, the mob went on alternately hooting and huzzaing as the names of Wild and Sheppard were pronounced, while some individuals, bolder than the rest, thrust their faces into the coach-window, and assured Jack that he should never be taken to Tyburn. ‘You must think me a fool, mademoiselle. “I will be off,” she declared. She asked the inevitable question, the one she knew Michelle was waiting to field like a quarterback anticipating the pass.
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