My business is with Lady Trafford. She spoke slowly. . ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. I need hardly say that your aunt joins with me very heartily in this request. As she came in this morning she saw that the lamp was still burning in the study; so she stopped at the door. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. They seem to spend their time yawning and inspecting their neighbour’s dresses through those hateful glasses. One of the shutters was a trifle damaged, letting in added light.
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