I do not believe that there has ever lived a really great actress whose moral character from the ordinary point of view would bear inspection. Of this boy she had only caught a glimpse;—but that glimpse was sufficient to satisfy her it was her son,—and, if she could have questioned her own instinctive love, she could not question her antipathy, when she beheld, partly concealed by a pillar immediately in the rear of the woollen-draper, the dark figure and truculent features of Jonathan Wild. One she entered and met with a sharp rebuff, which she appeared to receive unmoved. She found her foster father and Mike still awake, playing high stakes UNO at the dimly lit kitchen table.
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