Shari was snoring, the pill having worked its magic. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. And, as he was about to put himself into a posture of defence, his mother clasped him in her arms. I wanted the magic of love. A faint gleam of returning colour gave her at once a more natural appearance.
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