His voice when he spoke was almost fiercely assertive, but there was an undernote of nervousness. So absorbed was she by her passionate supplications that she was insensible to anything passing around her, until she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and heard a well-known voice breathe in her ear—"Mother!" She started at the sound as if an apparition had called her, screamed, and fell into her son's outstretched arms. There was a trader—a man who bought copra and pearls. She hesitated. I suppose I ought to have been a man. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. I spent many happy days there. Apparently I’m not to exist yet. He looked the boy over with interest. This incredible scene robbed him of the sense of locomotion. Everything was blurred. He was astonished.
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