But she threw a verbal bombshell into the spinsters' camp. “Oh, you can act!” she cried. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. And yet—Wait a little, you’d better have every bit of it. Lucilla broke across Melusine’s thoughts. By this time, Jonathan and the vast mob attending him, had come up, and the place was rendered almost as light as day by the links. I don’t mean I’m not a good woman—I mean that I’m not a GOOD woman.
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