The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below. "I can't help thinking of Jack Sheppard's speech to Mr. \"What did you do?\" Mike asked. She looked at him mournfully. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother.
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