It brought no coconut. "He stands before you," rejoined her son. Her own pack was so light that she left it in the locker. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. "Speak out—don't be alarmed," said Wood, in a kind and encouraging tone.
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