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"Leave his punishment to me, Jack," said Mrs. "So, stir your stumps, Saint Giles; and, if you mean to lock us up, use despatch. 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 washed her face with unwonted elaboration before she went to bed. She took Mr. Jonathan had to feel his way.
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