In the recess beside the fireplace were some open bookshelves. 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. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey.
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