“I ought to look up Gwen,” she said. "How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone. She was, by certain signs, charged with anger, but she saw upon the faces of these two young fools the look of angels and an ineffable kindness breathed upon her withered heart. Hurry to me, I entreat you. She returned home to the Beck house soaked and soggy. But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. “I see nothing of my sister,” she said.
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