"A mother's prayers—a mother's blessings," she cried, with the fervour almost of inspiration, "will avail against a fiend's malice. But she wished she could put the thing she had done in some way to them so that it would not hurt them so much as the truth would certainly do. Come along, master. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over. She wallowed for a time in the thought of Capes, unable to escape from his image and the idea of his presence in her life.
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