“Politics!” Ennison answered grimly. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. Where the stuff came from was always a mystery. This roof is still open to you. "The key," replied the widow. And Gerald— Melusine swallowed on an unaccountable lump in her throat. " "As like as life, Sir," observed Austin, peeping over Thornhill's shoulder at the portrait.
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