After the usual laconic greetings, he drew him on one side. She could learn nothing of her son, and only obtained one solitary piece of information, which added to, rather than alleviated her misery,—namely, that Jonathan Wild had paid a secret visit to the Cross Shovels. "But there's nothing more to see in Canton. In mailing the tales he had not enclosed return postage or the equivalent in money. "Dear me!" she added, as she pledged the amorous woollen-draper, "what a beautiful ring that is. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. ” “Do what?” “Oh!—anything.
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