She looked round wildly, as if seeking some source of help, as the boots halted at the front door and the shouting intensified. "My son! my dear, dear son!" returned Mrs. “Sufficient unto me is the change thereof,” he said, with all the effect of an epigram. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust.
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