Wood struck me a blow which made me a robber. I have suffered him to be brought up decently—honestly; because I would make his fall the greater, and deepen the wound I meant to inflict upon his mother. She was silent, the ghost of a fading smile passed from her lips. A woman’s shoe lay on the threadbare carpeting. Or was that perhaps because his business in Piccadilly the other day had gone awry? Perhaps Brewis Charvill had not welcomed him with open arms.
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