After all, she only LOOKED a woman. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. ’ ‘Do not make a game with me,’ she interrupted, gripping her underlip firmly between her teeth to stop the threatening laughter. It was at his side below the breast, hidden by the dark colour of his close-fitting jacket. Small wonder she had learned to be self-reliant. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. "If so, I may as well execute my warrant. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words. Let me lie in Willesden churchyard. CHAPTER XXVI. ‘No need to upset yourself.
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