” “Ennison here thought he saw her in London,” Meddoes remarked. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. She looked around the apartment for other people. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. They talked across their meal in an easy and friendly manner about Ann Veronica’s affairs. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. He squatted and threw his arm around the backs of her knees.
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