“Ssh!” said her mother, and then added, “A little natural feeling, dear. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. Her father was right: Ruth must never know. Nevertheless, relief washed over her, her body rejoicing in the afterglow of twenty years of tension released. He was standing at the moment close to the hatch, with his ear at the keyhole, and received a severe blow in the face.
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