His anger gave way to grim humour and he thrust towards them, leaning heavily on his cane. "Mother!" cried the son, "help!" "What is this?" shrieked Lady Trafford, raising herself on the couch, and extending her hands towards him. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. She could not say who, not yet. \"I guess so. It was wonderful to think this thing had lived, had felt and suffered.
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