“Are you in a hurry? Will you come in and have some coffee?” He hesitated, and glanced towards her companion. 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. The vengeance of the assailants did not stop here. . . In a moment his grasp grew weaker. A little Cockney recovered it, and made ridiculous attempts to get to her and replace it. She doubted if Manning would even listen to that. He pushed her back forcefully into her seat with his lips, his body automatically responding to her kiss. . "Come home directly, Sir.
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