" "He has done too much already," answered the widow. “Call me Annabel. 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. Could she understand what she was talking about? Luckily it was a second-class carriage and the ordinary fellowtravellers were not there. "Mr. Stanley used his authority, and commanded Ann Veronica to come home, to which, of course, she said she wouldn’t; and then he warned her not to defy him, warned her very solemnly, and then commanded her again. Burn your palette and your easel. ’ ‘Poor sort of a mother,’ Martha said with bitterness.
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