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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. Here, where every element of her surroundings was tawdry and commonplace, and before this young man of vulgar origin and appearance, it was striking. “The real reason why I am out of place here,” she said, “is because I like men. They were familiar but more massive. ’ She turned, her eyes narrowed. She turned there, clasped her hands behind her back and put up her chin. It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. I consider even now that the present colour is far less becoming. She looked and felt like a fairy princess. I naturally want to do it up in proper style. “All of which doesn’t help me in the slightest degree to pay back that money.
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