The night his execution was therefore passed in a most anxious state of mind; nor was his uneasiness allayed by the appearance of Jonathan Wild, who, after he had been driven from the roof of the jail, repaired to the Middle Stone Ward in a fit of ungovernable passion, to vent his rage upon the prisoner, whom he looked upon as the cause of the present calamity. He was in the house with his mother. But pathologically, he is still on the edge. Then suddenly, in front of all those windows, he folded her in his arms and pressed her to him, and kissed her unresisting face. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. An unhappy little sigh escaped her.
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