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"My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. Amongst others, Mr. There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it. " "Not your only chance, Thames," returned Jack, in the same undertone; "but your best. " "Can't ve call for asshistanche?" "And who'll find us, if we do?" rejoined Wild, fiercely. Thames took it, and beheld the portrait of a young man, apparently—judging from his attire—of high rank, whose proud and patrician features certainly presented a very striking resemblance to his own. You've a good deal to go through to-night. "Gone," replied the wounded man. Wood. She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself. She felt that perhaps, in her desire to play an adequate part in the conversation, she had talked rather more freely than she ought to have done, and given him a wrong impression of herself.
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