Anna took up the pen, and signed, after a moment’s hesitation, A. "I know you'll not deceive me. Her head swam. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. Hardened as he may be, that would touch him. Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out. Anna——” Again she stopped him, but this time it was not so easy. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. It must be my fault that you have not learnt that your husband is the man to come to—at such a time as this. Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair.
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