"My mother,—my poor mother!" exclaimed Jack. "Read the first chapter of Job"; beyond that, nothing. Every moment or two he bent over his patient. Think! You could not have done it. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. "The ban-dogs!" thundered a tall man, whose stature and former avocations had procured him the nickname of "The long drover of the Borough market. He stabbed a kitchen knife between her ribs. "Come here," said the petticoated tyrant. He beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments. And my word's law—with you, at least," she added, bestowing a cutting glance upon her husband.
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