The original passage, Martha had told her, had led only from an upstairs room to one downstairs. But d—n him! let's talk o' something more agreeable. You have watched all the uncouth creations of my brain come sprawling out upon the canvas, and besides, we have been companions. She withdrew her head with a little moan, and resumed her flight. There’s always friction, conflict, unwilling concessions. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother.
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