It has become a part of the order of my life. The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. Little Anna screamed and thrashed as she was torn from Lucy’s skirts. The pause lengthened, and he had the satisfaction of seeing despair melt the set mockery of Spurlock's mouth.
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