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She could learn nothing of her son, and only obtained one solitary piece of information, which added to, rather than alleviated her misery,—namely, that Jonathan Wild had paid a secret visit to the Cross Shovels. " "Perhaps I read of it somewhere. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face. Petite build, like herself. Her clock had stopped—stopped at the very hour on which she had quitted the Mint! She had not the heart to wind it up again.
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