Entering the Red Room, he crept through the hole in the wall, descended the chimney, and arrived once more in his old place of captivity. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. “As she asked!” “It is already too late. “What do you think of that?” he asked. He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. Here I am as an alternative either to nasty work—or going home.
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