Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now. The boy doesn't know it, but I dug into his trunk for something to identify him and stumbled upon some manuscripts. Her eye wandered quickly over that riotous and disorderly assemblage, until it settled upon one group more riotous and disorderly than the rest, of which her son formed the principal figure. "Whose house do you want, master?" said the man, touching his hat.
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