Wood, was pronounced by that lady to be very much sprained; and she, forthwith, proceeded to bathe it with a reddish-coloured lotion. "My mother!—my poor mother!" ejaculated Thames, falling on his knees, and bursting into tears. “Then let me be the judge of what is best,” she answered. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality.
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