’ *** Martha sniffed dolefully, scrubbing at her reddened eyes with a large square of damp linen. Gently each time Ruth drew down the arms. “Permit me to offer you the English paper which has just arrived, Sir John,” he said, holding out a Daily Telegraph. "She is. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be.
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