If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. ” “Well, he was presumptuous,” Annabel remarked, “and he wasn’t nice about it. You have only to look resolute and proceed upon your way. Remember! not a word!" So saying, he huddled the mantle over Wood's shoulders, dashed the lantern to the ground, and extinguished the light. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother.
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