Stanley regarded him through his glasses with something approaching animosity. "All the wonderful things it is going to do! If I could only know for certain that my mother knew how happy I'm going to be!" "You love the memory of your mother?" "It is a part of my blood … my beautiful mother!" He saw Enschede, putting out to sea, alone, memories and regrets crowding upon his wake. ’ With difficulty, Gerald bit back a laugh. These sham ideals and advanced notions. ’ He reached into an inner pocket of his coat and brought out a packet of papers.
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