Was he pleased?” “Calmly! He said—you won’t mind my telling you?” “Not a bit. When the disillusion comes, when the fairy story ends, if she is blessed with children, she doesn't mind. In the distance a bell clanged, and chattering broke out in the doorway as several nuns came crowding in. 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. You have spoken her name, I think, Marthe.
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