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She began to weep in long, aching sobs. ‘I am glad it is you, because you can help me. ” “Why not? Your spirits at least should be good. I have it about me. ” Anna shook her head. You were content, and I came to thrive on your happiness. She could learn nothing of her son, and only obtained one solitary piece of information, which added to, rather than alleviated her misery,—namely, that Jonathan Wild had paid a secret visit to the Cross Shovels.
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