Each time a daughter had been born to him he had concealed his chagrin with great tenderness and effusion from his wife, and had sworn unwontedly and with passionate sincerity in the bathroom. “How crude you are, Anna!” she exclaimed with a little sigh. " "You're not deceiving me!" said Thames, doubtfully. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. ‘What in Hades d’ye mean, thanks to me? Want to blame anyone, blame that rapscallion who calls himself your father. We're told, that 'Whoso is partner with a thief hateth his own soul.
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