"What is she saying to me?" Ah Cum shrugged. “For no other reason than you talk too much. Passing at a glance over the whole of the intervening period; leaving in the words of the poet, —The growth untried Of that wide gap— we shall resume our narrative at the beginning of June, 1715. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. ” Annabel pulled up her veil. ‘Come, come, ma’am,’ he said smiling.
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