You were with your mother, the two of you huddled like thieves, laughing at the silly women who tried to shield themselves from rain by cowering under empty baskets and shawls. It was after all a momentary affair. If only this child were his: what good times they would have together! The thought passed on, but it left a little ache in his heart. "To him I owe everything," continued the widow, "life itself—nay, more than life,—for without his assistance I should have perished, body and soul. More importantly, she had her wits. He fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight and were in pursuit of him,—that they had climbed up the chimney,—entered the Red Room,— tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by the gate which he had left unbroken in the chapel. The contest, however, though desperate, was brief. She slipped down the perfunctory flight of stairs, short because of the home’s split-level style. So I had to buy out his interest, and it pinched me dreadfully to do it.
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