She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. And Rollo, who had been waiting for some encouraging sound, presented himself at the doorway. There would be no mercy in this man. 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.
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