“Well anyhow—I don’t see the force of your objection, you know. There is no Heaven for your mother. "Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. Kneebone and his friends would be glad of a little refreshment. ‘You were his daughter. “Now replace the stone, my child. Do you think that I am utterly selfish?” She raised her eyebrows. " "By depriving him of 'em, eh! But I'm sorry you hurt his lordship, Terry. "Untie his arms, and take off that handkerchief. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother.
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