"My sister the wife of one condemned felon! the parent of another! It cannot be. Courtlaw sat with folded arms. Here's Winny always urging you to go and visit Mrs. Then she put more coal on, piled it over the ashes, and stood once more upright. “No, John, you won’t understand. Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true. Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. Ruth?" "Why the devil not? Why do you suppose she married you if she didn't love you? While you read I watched her face. "We'll see that, you yelping hounds!" rejoined Jonathan, glaring fiercely at them. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form.
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