“And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. Day after day she pounded him with curses, saying that her mother looked down on him from Heaven and sent a curse, to which he laughed. ’ ‘It’s no use you being superior,’ said Roding severely. Gerald raised his cockaded hat, and smiled. She was carefree. "Jack!" Her son averted his gaze. The ceiling had, in many places, given way; the laths had been removed; and, where any plaster remained, it was either mapped and blistered with damps, or festooned with dusty cobwebs. “I feel shabby and disgraced. Do not mistake me. .
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