’ ‘She is no longer a mystery,’ Gerald said. The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. What right had she to call herself “Alcide”? It was abominable, an imposture. " "Who are you!" demanded the fugitive, sternly. I never had even a real doll," she added, as she snuggled the flea-bitten head to her heart. The young officer sat in front, his hat perfectly straight. The poor widow was thrown into an agony of distress on learning that a robbery had been committed, in which her son (for she could not doubt that Jack was one of the boys,) was implicated; nor was her anxiety alleviated by Mrs.
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