"I cannot part with him," replied the widow, bursting into tears; "indeed, indeed, I cannot. But between us, we'll have him writing books some day. " "Others may, if you won't," muttered Jack, retiring. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. ‘I escape from a fate entirely misérable, you understand. It's two hundred pounds.
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