"My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. Even if you pretend sometimes to be without sense. She wanted to scream, but there was no one to scream for. " "I am not unprotected," rejoined the poor woman; "there's some one at the window. " "Oh! do not say so," replied his wretched parent. Grace, confidence, the power of movement even, seemed gone from her. Perhaps I ought to have let you order the dinner, but I think I got through it pretty well.
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