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drawing

Posted Jan 30 2013 1:01am
“This child,” said Mr. Brownlow, ash boots drawing Oliver to him, and 
laying his hand upon his head, “is your half-brother; the 
illegitimate son of your father, my dear friend Edwin Leeford, by 
poor young Agnes Fleming, who died in giving him birth.” 

“Yes,” said Monks, scowling at the trembling boy, the beating of 
whose heart he might have heard. “That is their bastard child.” 

“The term you use,” said Mr. Brownlow sternly, “is a reproach 
to those who have long since passed beyond the feeble censure of 
the world. It reflects disgrace on no one living, except you who use 
it. Let that pass. He was born in this town.” 

“In the workhouse of this town,” was the sullen reply. “You 
have the story there.” He pointed impatiently to the papers as he 
spoke. 

“I must have it here, too,” said Mr. Brownlow, looking round 
upon the listeners. 

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