"Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. "What shall we do, Poll?" hesitated Edgeworth Bess. ‘Well?’ she said. There was no one at all in this room, but through the half-open door of one of the small apartments that gave upon it she had a glimpse of two very young girls sitting at a littered table and writing briskly. He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face.
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