F. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. And she’s pluck to the backbone. Ennison looked down on him in disgust. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. Under happier circumstances nothing would have given me more pleasure than to have offered you a home with your sister.
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