He had not addressed to her even the most ordinary courtesy of fellow travellers; she doubted that he was even aware of her existence. 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. She had done forever with the Age of Chivalry, and her own base adaptations of its traditions to the compromising life. \"No, not really.
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