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His mother used to live i' this village, just down yonder; but when her son took to bad ways, she went distracted,—and now she's i' Bedlam, I've heerd. I want to talk to Mr. Only the next of kin. . ’ ‘It’s no use blaming me, Gerald,’ uttered Roding, shrugging helplessly as his senior turned questioning eyes on him. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. " "I will try to do so," replied the widow, forcing a smile. ” “The explanation seems to me to be reasonably simple,” Annabel said coldly. She had to do her thinking at home—under inspection. “Mr. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his.
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