“I never dreamt!” she said. “I HAVE—had one or two talks with him, daddy. "Can you not love him?" "Love him!" echoed the widow. “It’s okay. The necessity which had previously existed of leaving the ghastly evidence of the murderous deed undisturbed,—the presence of the mangled corpse,—the bustle of the inquest, at which her attendance was required,—all these circumstances produced a harrowing effect upon the young girl's imagination. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. I found a blue stone on the beach once. She too had seen. Perhaps she did love research for its own sake, she was certainly gifted enough. “Thought so.
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