” She smiled grimly at the recollection of that lunch—tea and roll at a cheap café. ‘Do not mix yourself in mine, and perhaps you will not die. "To shoot you would be to lose the reward. It shall never be said that I raised my arm willingly against a woman. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. ” “Think not,” that young man remarked laconically. ‘I’m a soldier, missie.
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