So absorbed was she by her passionate supplications that she was insensible to anything passing around her, until she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and heard a well-known voice breathe in her ear—"Mother!" She started at the sound as if an apparition had called her, screamed, and fell into her son's outstretched arms. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. Her back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead. Do you know of what I speak?” “I do, I do!” She said. I have had enough of your hysterical behavior.
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