" The hooting was instantaneously changed to cheers. Strongly impregnated with the mingled odours of tobacco, ale, brandy, and other liquors, the atmosphere was almost stifling. "Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command. “I’m only arguing against your position of what a woman should be, and trying to get it clear in my own mind. ‘Me, I have a name. ‘What’s more, I wouldn’t blame her. I do not say guest because that suggests friendship; and I am no friend of this Wastrel. And now tell me what has happened to my poor mother?" "Ever since your last capture, and Thames's mysterious disappearance, she has been dreadfully ill," replied Winifred; "so ill, that each day was expected to be her last.
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