“No,” she said, under her breath, “you can’t face it. "They say her son's taken at last, and is to be hanged. ’ ‘And was not she put out?’ demanded Miss Froxfield with a tinkling laugh. The lady reseated herself, watching him expectantly. ’ But she reckoned without the fellow Trodger. “So am I the jewel or the bug inside?” He smiled. “I haven’t a scrap—of this sort of aversion. "He stands before you," rejoined her son.
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