"Your son's father was a thief; and Jonathan Wild (unless I'm misinformed,) was his friend,—so it's not unnatural he should show some partiality towards Jack. She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. At the bottom of the trunk I found two of my mother's dresses.
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