‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. I’m talking to you now as though you had all the wisdom and charity in the world. ” His arms were around her. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. I know the Dutch. . For a stunned moment, Emile did not speak. At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already.
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