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Sir John filled his glass with trembling hand. " "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. He hung vaguely for a moment as she passed. “Look here! Aren’t you going a little too far? This—this is degradation—making a fuss with sleeves. "Your son's father was a thief; and Jonathan Wild (unless I'm misinformed,) was his friend,—so it's not unnatural he should show some partiality towards Jack. Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. ‘Do not say such things, you—you imbecile. Now he thought she was so foolish that she knew only one stroke. But he has since acquitted you of any share in it.
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