"My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. For the first time that day, she was finally able to look into his face. . I do swear. A cold shiver came over her. ‘We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. But I must, they say, and try to make me with the punishments. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression. "You hear," pursued Jonathan; "my friend desires to know if you are willing to pay your footing as a member of the ancient and respectable fraternity of debtors?" "I owe no man a farthing, and my name shall never appear in any such rascally list," replied Wood angrily. Everybody looked askance at everybody else. Every time he left a room, she chastised herself bitterly for her own profound weakness.
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