" Ruth spread out the ruffled skirt, sundrily torn and soiled. 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 long as I live here, you stop fucking the children and you stop trying to fuck me. And if sometimes I grow heady—and it's in the blood— remind me of this day when you took me out of hell—a thief. She wanted to be alone. She had never felt so acutely the desire for free initiative, for a life unhampered by others.
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