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. He strangled the infant, which slipped out of his hands and screamed. “No, I’m fine. She glanced into her companion’s face, and she saw there strange things. Then she was out of the door and running, fast. I’ll wait my whole life!” He cried.
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