Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. "Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. ” Brendon reappeared, followed by a tall thin man with a stubbly brown moustache and restless grey eyes. ” He called for a hansom. ‘Wait for me.
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