‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. He did not care whether the stories were accepted or not. “I wonder if there is!” said Capes, and paused, and then bent down over the boy who wore his hair like Russell. Stanley considered. "Well, Mr. Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been.
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