You've your own reasons, no doubt, for bringing up her son —perhaps, I ought rather to say your son, Mr. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. "Much that I would willingly forget. She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames. ‘Or do I arrest you and have these soldiers march you off to gaol?’ A sweep of his arm indicated the array of military strength on the benches, every eye of which was trained on the little scene being enacted before them.
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