You’re neither of you any longer under arrest. She had denied it with vigor, and here she was! She did not so much exhaust this general question as pass from it to her insoluble individual problem again: “What am I to do?” She wanted first of all to fling the forty pounds back into Ramage’s face. Her dress, it has just been said, was neatness and simplicity itself. She goes out and comes home. So absorbed was she by her passionate supplications that she was insensible to anything passing around her, until she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and heard a well-known voice breathe in her ear—"Mother!" She started at the sound as if an apparition had called her, screamed, and fell into her son's outstretched arms. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety.
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