She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. The city presented a terrible picture of devastation. Had he been sick in the mind when he had done this damnable thing? It did not seem possible, for he could recall clearly all he had said and done; there were no blank spaces to give him one straw of excuse. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. “I had the pleasure of—er—meeting you more than once, I believe.
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