Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. My name is Wild— Jonathan Wild. What!—add another drop to her cup? Who knows? Any day they may find me. Her hand grasped it firmly, and she pushed herself forward. Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco. Yes!" she screamed, "these are his father's features! It is—it is my son!" "Mother!" cried Thames; "are you, indeed, my mother?" "I am, indeed—my own sweet boy!" she sobbed, pressing him tenderly to her breast.
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