He took a handful of the gravelly mud, with which the platform was covered, and threw the small pebbles, one by one, towards the gleam. It was the only time she had ever hit him, punched him right in the stomach like one of his favorite Three Stooges episodes. That is how I learned that there were such things as novels. They had turned into the street, on the opposite side of which were the flats where Anna lived. I stole away and walked to the railway station. She could learn nothing of her son, and only obtained one solitary piece of information, which added to, rather than alleviated her misery,—namely, that Jonathan Wild had paid a secret visit to the Cross Shovels.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjE5MS4xOTIuMjQxIC0gMTAtMDYtMjAyNCAwMTo1MjozOSAtIDg5NzY0MjE5NA==
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