There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. She was not quite clear how she should find it, but she felt she would. Sheppard, anxiously. When the carpenter concluded his recital, Jonathan was for a moment lost in reflection. "But first let us secure Sheppard. " "Mr.
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