"Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. He made some obvious comments on the wide view warming toward its autumnal blaze that spread itself in hill and valley, wood and village, below. “What I am after is that beauty isn’t a special inserted sort of thing; that’s my idea. " "Yes, I will," replied Jack sullenly, "if you beat me in that way. I'm crazy over music, too. I begin to fear I might be purposely go out of the way. And when I have steeped him to the lips in vice and depravity; when I have led him to the commission of every crime; when there is neither retreat nor advance for him; when he has plundered his benefactor, and broken the heart of his mother—then—but not till then, I will consign him to the fate to which I consigned his father. I am up to the ears in it all— every moment I can spare.
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