C below. ‘It is in truth you?’ ‘Of course it is I. She wrapped a leg around him. “It is too late for visitors,” she remarked. “You are late,” she murmured. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. “Let me see,” she said to herself, trying to control a slight sinking of the heart, “I am going to take a room in a lodging-house because that is cheaper. Wood;—"Owen—Owen!—Thames, help!" "Coming!" cried Mr.
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