No one ate with as much passionate gusto as a teenager could. “When did you get home last night, Lucy?” Cathy interrogated through a yawn. So dreadful were these shouts as to produce an effect upon the hardened feelings of Jonathan, who shrank out of sight. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be.
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