"Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. It surprised her she hadn’t thought of it before! She tried to explain that she was going to pay him forty pounds without fail next week. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. 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. “There’s the whole situation. You might even tire of me by then, you know. See what crime does, Sir.
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