’ ‘Then what?’ demanded Lucilla in a hushed tone. " "My son!" echoed the widow, trembling. " "Let me touch you, then; let me feel if you are really flesh and blood," cried the poor maniac, creeping towards him on all fours. All that I regret are the wasted years, and I am not sure that I regret them. ” “I know—” said Ramage, with sympathy. She saw it, and checked without thinking. But I give you this warning, and let it sink in.
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