We are not animals. "Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. . For a moment she thought of saying yes, and then filled with shame. Empty, silly, coarse brutes. "Do you think I'd take the trouble to announce him? These are persons of consequence, I tell you. But I've an idea as well as you, grounded in some measure upon Sheppard's story. She knew, too, she must not hesitate.
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