" "It is strange," replied Winifred, artlessly. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. ” An awkward moment of silence followed. "Mother, I come to you. ” He said. Through fire and water, through penury and pestilence, your hand will always be on his shoulder. " He patted her hand.
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