An ugly flush stained his cheeks. "What weight are these irons?" asked Jonathan, coolly addressing one of the partners. Through all he said ran one quality that pleased her—the quality of a man who feels that things can be done, that one need not wait for the world to push one before one moved. "Your son's father was a thief; and Jonathan Wild (unless I'm misinformed,) was his friend,—so it's not unnatural he should show some partiality towards Jack.
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