Lucy could feel blood welling underneath a bump half swelling and already half-healing on her scalp. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. ‘All right, Trodger. “You wouldn’t. There was a concerted gasp of shock from both the black-garbed lad and the coachman. This is a case either of suicide or murder.
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