But he was wide awake. Just as he reached them, the Comte de St Erme drew Valade a little apart and began to converse with him in rapid French. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. Oh! and love—love! We’ve had so splendid a time, and fought our fight and won.
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