“I haven’t a scrap—of this sort of aversion. ‘Jacques?’ she called. She was rash and ignorant, absolutely inexperienced. 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. He was helpful, but gravely dubious. ” Annabel yawned.
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