"Of yourself," he replied, in a mournful tone. ’ ‘Can you prove it?’ demanded Hilary. She was perfectly aware that the boy had gotten some sort of bug in his craw over her despite her sloppy, strange appearance. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. Love, obliterated, annihilated; out of his heart and out of his Bible. Stanley.
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