That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap. He had done it. 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. Abruptly she desisted, recoiled, and turned and fled up-stairs. Eh bien, you have now the opportunity.
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