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Brendon looked across the room at her thoughtfully. She noted the dank hair on his forehead, the sweat of revolting nature. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. "She is in his power, and I am here, chained hand and foot, unable to assist her. Spurling," rejoined Ireton; "we can taste the rum when he returns. ’ Melusine knew it to be true.
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