" That satisfied something of her undefined hunger. Go up and get my daughter so we can have some homemade pie. 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 left her where she was, crying in the doorway. “I don’t see what he has to do with my coming to London?” “He—he worships the ground you tread on.
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