"Tom," continued Kneebone, calling to the shop-boy, "don't go home. From this perturbed state he was roused by thoughts of his mother, and fancying he heard her gentle voice urging him on to fresh exertion, he started up. Her body rose up to meet his in a cat-like stretch and she smiled. A dozen books lay upon the counterpane. Remember that I’ve seen Brewis Charvill, and I’m well aware of your identity.
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