"Is she alive?" "She is not," replied Trenchard, overcome by conflicting emotions, and unable to endure the boy's agonized look. "Why do you laugh?" she asked gravely. "He left an envelope with some money in it. It was a clear, lovely, October morning. "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. “Ah!” said Ramage, impressively.
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