The door was then locked, and he was left alone. ‘Gérard will think that I have gone back to London. The imbecile. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. “And even then—” The conversation hung for a thoughtful moment. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes. She reached for the door handle.
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