"Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames. What are you going to tell me?" "Nothing. But with Gosse and the woman in prison here, there is always the chance that the whole affair may be raked up all over again. " "Well, think no more about it," returned Thames. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle.
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