Let me go my own way towards them. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. At last—I told a story. His vision was becoming accustomed to the faint light now and her features were clearer. She could not resist enduing persons she met with the noble attributes of the fictional characters. And look, again, at the women one finds letting lodgings.
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