That for you!" And she snapped her fingers in his face. "Get up, mother," cried Jack; "do not kneel to him. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. ’ The lady hesitated a moment, her eyes seeming to measure the distance between where he stood and the door. Never! Perhaps some day, quite soon, she might regret that breakfast-room.
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