"My mother,—my poor mother!" exclaimed Jack. He was not quite sure whether, after all, he had been wise. If you don’t eat humble-pie now you may live to fare worse later. ‘No mistaking you this time. . ’ ‘Get rid of the wench,’ Roding said brutally. " "Let me have a glass of brandy," said he, addressing the host. She had been obliged to wait all morning for the opportunity to talk to Martha, who chose always to retire to her cell for the period of recreation that preceded afternoon prayers.
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