He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames. I forget the particulars, but I know it was something very disagreeable. Most of my successes in life have been made with a sort of reckless vigor. She had called the police on them anonymously. " "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't. Don’t leave me.
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