“You!” she exclaimed. “But I don’t see,” said Ann Veronica, “just how it fits the present situation. You belong to me, and I have waited long enough. ‘I have an excellent excuse to remain comfortably ensconced in my parlour here, able to indulge in my favourite pastime. 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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