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She is not in the least like the descriptions of her. "Jack!" exclaimed Thames. See paragraph 1. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. But you will stay here?" "I dare not. A delicate flush of colour streamed into her cheeks.
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