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I'll cable to-night, and in a few days we'll have some news. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. Yet every now and then, during the progress of the meal, his attention apparently wandered, and leaning forward he glanced covertly at Anna with a curious mixture of expressions on his face. Your time isn't come yet. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. ‘Gerald, what have you been about? Dorothée tells me that you were flirting outrageously with Madame Valade on Monday night. Besides, he might hear things.
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