"Come! I see the storm has blown over," cried Winifred, brightening up. “I thought you weren’t getting along so well with your mother these days. Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. She saw now that it was not a dissipated face; it was as smooth and unlined as polished marble, which at present it resembled.
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