She made an abrupt personal appeal. 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. "Where are you?" "Here," replied Mrs. “I shall not speak,” he said, “now or at any other time. He had no use for Ann Veronica; he had never had a use for her since she had been too old to sit upon his knee.
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