There was no point in rushing into the long walk home. . She was correct, and when I went directly to the street she had named, there you were, walking into the Butcher Shop. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. But she threw a verbal bombshell into the spinsters' camp. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. She never even graduated high school, and that has been a thorn in her side ever since. The meat was coarse and disagreeably served.
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