Ann Veronica decided that “hoydenish ragger” was the only phrase to express her. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. In futur', I'll keep the 'Evenin' Star' for his lordship's enemies. The Law was around the corner and down the narrow hall, puffing a Virginia Slims Menthol in frantic sips, teetering uncomfortably out of an emergency exit door. All in a moment.
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