Jack had brought away the bunch of keys which he had taken from Quilt Arnold, but, none of them would open it. “But why now? Don’t boys know that I am involved with John right now?” “That’s not the way it works, Lucy. ” She looked up at him quickly. There was. 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. .
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