She opened and read it at once. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. And when she went to sleep, then always Capes became the novel and wonderful guest of her dreams. ‘Rather thought I’d have to disarm you when you heard of it. My Mom inherited our house from our Grandma, otherwise they never could have afforded it, not even twenty years ago.
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