It was the very spot from which his poor mother had gazed after her vain attempt to rescue him at the Mint; but, though he was ignorant of this, her image was alone present to him. God, Lucy, what’s it been, how many years?” “I’m so sorry, John. We meant to make it dinner and a theatre, but you were not home. “I will MAKE you love me! Until he has faded—faded into a memory.
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