Even as a child she observed how men were haunted 18 by the presence of her mother. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a faint shudder stir her shoulders. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. Next to the executioner stood his wife—the former Mrs. Maggot was equipped in a light blue riding-habit, trimmed with silver, a hunting-cap and a flaxen peruke, and, instead of a whip, carried a stout cudgel. You've your own reasons, no doubt, for bringing up her son —perhaps, I ought rather to say your son, Mr.
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