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A pity, en effet, that she dare not truly desire him to rescue her. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. “There is someone in my rooms,” Anna said. Impassive by nature and training, he was conscious to-night of a strange sense of excitement, of exhilaration tempered by a dull background of disappointment. "I'll see.
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