Why did he take me?’ Martha’s damp eyes were puzzled. ‘You keep a-hold of him,’ Trodger ordered his men. "Sit beside me," continued Mrs. "My son! my dear, dear son!" returned Mrs. ‘R-rien. She paused. Lucy saw it happen as if in slow motion. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe.
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