And now tell me what has happened to my poor mother?" "Ever since your last capture, and Thames's mysterious disappearance, she has been dreadfully ill," replied Winifred; "so ill, that each day was expected to be her last. There isn’t. I see now that you make a game with me indeed. You shirk a straightforward and decent return for what you get from us— taking refuge in purity and delicacy and such-like when it comes to payment. " "As like as life, Sir," observed Austin, peeping over Thornhill's shoulder at the portrait.
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