"My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. ‘What if she does not agree? Could she reveal us, damage us amongst our peers? Are you certain that we should not kill her?’ He asked. Presently he heard her voice. They bickered frequently now as Gianfrancesco protested the prices of things like funeral candles and poultices to comfort the dying.
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