" The Wastrel laughed. You used to beg me for hours at a time to give it all up, never to go near the ‘Ambassador’s’ again. "What was it?" He was insistent. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. Priests and princes sought his knowledge of languages and philosophy and wantonly tried to throw themselves into his bed. Everything was going to hell.
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