Somewhere in the world would be his people, perhaps his mother; and it might soften the bitterness, of the return to consciousness if he found a woman at his bedside. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. "Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. The two great hotels on their right were still ablaze with lights.
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