” She said mournfully. "How shall I get to you?" "My yacht is in the river. "Halloa!" cried Jack, looking round, and trying to fix his inebriate gaze upon the speaker,—"who's that?" "Your mother," replied Mrs. “Oh I most definitely think so. He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. Spurlock has gone. The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end.
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