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Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. Totally disregarding the pain, he picked up the nail, and reserved it for future use. She could not feel her own body. She said there was no other way to get them to stop their constant screaming. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. The man lingered. She put down the sketch-books and apparatus she had brought with her, pulled out her stool, and sat down.
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