"What?… Oh!… Well, good Lord!" He wrenched loose his head and stood up, sending the chair clattering to the floor. The smell of gunpowder was strong in the room. He began to talk again in quick undertones that she could not clearly hear. The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. “You will not object,” he said, glancing towards her, “to accepting a deposit. "Your son's father was a thief; and Jonathan Wild (unless I'm misinformed,) was his friend,—so it's not unnatural he should show some partiality towards Jack.
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