The noise of a bolt came to Alderley’s ears. That's the sort of fool your nephew is!" "Not even a good time!" said the aunt, whimsically, as she stuffed the bills into her reticule. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. These things did not harmonize with his conception of the forthcoming (if unavoidable) interview. It was a brief solitude, however. Not a bark could be discerned on the river, except those already mentioned. Of this boy she had only caught a glimpse;—but that glimpse was sufficient to satisfy her it was her son,—and, if she could have questioned her own instinctive love, she could not question her antipathy, when she beheld, partly concealed by a pillar immediately in the rear of the woollen-draper, the dark figure and truculent features of Jonathan Wild.
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