He did not speak for a moment. Lucy sat in back of Jane Lenihan, who never spoke to her. Even so much allusion as this to that family shadow, she felt, was an immense recognition of her ripening years. But never had the hand touched her with a father's caress; never had he taken her into his arms; never had he kissed her. She could learn nothing of her son, and only obtained one solitary piece of information, which added to, rather than alleviated her misery,—namely, that Jonathan Wild had paid a secret visit to the Cross Shovels. "I've proofs to the contrary," replied Jonathan.
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