They did not care— servant or master, it meant nothing. It was the first expression of the mother's blood. To find the true father at the expense of the beautiful fairy tale Ruth had woven around the woman in the locket was an intolerable thought. Lost, stolen, or strayed, the Young Person!. Having ascertained that Thames was at his heels, he hurried with his ghastly burthen down Seacoal Lane.
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