People, nobody, can do as they like in this world. The ragged edge. Straitened circumstances would not have mattered; a mother would have managed somehow. We don’t consider each other; we needn’t. God knows how you did it. All her protests seemed stifled before she could find words to utter them. She could learn nothing of her son, and only obtained one solitary piece of information, which added to, rather than alleviated her misery,—namely, that Jonathan Wild had paid a secret visit to the Cross Shovels.
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