I am clear I want you. Mother and Son XI. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. Creeping along quickly on his hands and knees, he found the entrance to a covered drain, into which he crept. The street was deserted, no pedestrian school-goers walked immediately in front or behind them. "Under the table. Spare him!—pity me!" With this she arose, and, taking up the infant, was about to proceed down stairs, when she was alarmed by hearing the street-door opened, and the sound of heavy footsteps entering the house.
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