It did not occur to her that save for some accidents of education and character they had souls like her own. ‘He was our first commander, and a more stiff-necked—’ ‘Exactly so,’ concurred Lady Bicknacre. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. ’ Colour suffused the man’s face. Go to her and tell her. Shall we say at half-past seven?” She rose from her chair.
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