And, as he was about to put himself into a posture of defence, his mother clasped him in her arms. Her grave fine face, her warm clear complexion, had already aroused his curiosity as he had gone to and fro in Morningside Park, and here suddenly he was near to her and talking freely and intimately. Wood. Martha had the square look of solid English citizenry, which was not deceiving. She fidgeted and looked away. Once before—but that had been different.
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