Jack Kimble nodded eagerly. After all, what could happen? He was looking at her very hard and earnestly. Saw the villain through the keyhole. "I suppose he'll be on his feet any day now. Of this boy she had only caught a glimpse;—but that glimpse was sufficient to satisfy her it was her son,—and, if she could have questioned her own instinctive love, she could not question her antipathy, when she beheld, partly concealed by a pillar immediately in the rear of the woollen-draper, the dark figure and truculent features of Jonathan Wild. The Frenchman was already being followed.
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