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. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. Again returning to the main road, he passed through Clapton; and turning off on the left, arrived at the foot of Stamford Hill. ” “There is no one else who has a key to your rooms?” “No one except my maid, who is away in Wiltshire. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo.
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