A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. Of course, it really signified nothing in this careless part of the world that she was travelling alone. Yes, I can readily believe it. Rhea writhed and scuttled about like a crab. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be.
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