“Hi Lucy. ” “No doubt. ” “Yes,” said his prospective fellow-sailor, “that’s very pretty. “And what on earth,” he said, “do you think the world is made of? Why do you think I have been doing things for you? The abstract pleasure of goodness? Are you one of the members of that great white sisterhood that takes and does not give? The good accepting woman! Do you really suppose a girl is entitled to live at free quarters on any man she meets without giving any return?” “I thought,” said Ann Veronica, “you were my friend. "But are you really there?" "No, I'm here," answered Jack, leaping down. Rank ingratitude, I call it. I wrote three letters yesterday and tore them up. "I have not told you half. “Never. Mr. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother.
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