Her eye wandered quickly over that riotous and disorderly assemblage, until it settled upon one group more riotous and disorderly than the rest, of which her son formed the principal figure. I’m sorry. She loved to be there, taking part in it all, breathing it, being it. She had lost it. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. After all, old P. The hansom drove off. And yet it was basically a fine action. The two great hotels on their right were still ablaze with lights.
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