“Not at all. They cannot imagine the discomforts involved, and they see only mystery in your fight to recover your lost heritage. His eyes were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed timbre. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. She never calls herself ‘Alcide. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. The room in which this interview took place had a sordid and miserable look. She would lure him, as he was an easily tempted child predator who could even more easily be turned into prey. ” She marked an hotel that seemed neither opulent nor odd in a little side street opening on the Embankment, made up her mind with an effort, and, returning by Hungerford Bridge to Waterloo, took a cab to this chosen refuge with her two pieces of luggage. "If there is any honour in you, stop and think. CHAPTER XV.
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