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. And now she was discovering that even Nature was something of a liar, with her mirages and her horizons. And if sometimes I grow heady—and it's in the blood— remind me of this day when you took me out of hell—a thief.
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