They are used to me, they only cry because they have become so used to being here. Of this boy she had only caught a glimpse;—but that glimpse was sufficient to satisfy her it was her son,—and, if she could have questioned her own instinctive love, she could not question her antipathy, when she beheld, partly concealed by a pillar immediately in the rear of the woollen-draper, the dark figure and truculent features of Jonathan Wild. Shari smiled and Mike whispered to her. She laughed nervously, but kept her eyes averted.
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