That day Gerald had brought her to this excessively careful house, where she had felt very much alone and very unlike herself. ‘Though he didn’t mean it. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. Such pretty manners, she thought. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. I'll send for Wu Fang. ‘I do not understand you. For this three weeks had been the hardest of her life.
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