She was fine and tender. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. I told you that at the outset. You've your own reasons, no doubt, for bringing up her son —perhaps, I ought rather to say your son, Mr. She could not see any relief from this anxiety except repayment, and repayment seemed impossible. She did not want to feel such negative emotion towards any member of her foster family. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. At the bottom of the trunk I found two of my mother's dresses.
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