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. “If I didn’t love you better than myself,” said Capes, “I wouldn’t fence like this with you. He would pursue that little pastime on some other occasion. This was his sister, evidently in the last extremity. Well, I told aunt. " "You'll do a national service, then," said Hogarth. His frowning gaze came back to her. She could feel Martin’s eyes boring into her as she entered the room, her own personal Farhat. .
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