"Mother—dear mother!" said Jack, bursting into tears. Miss Klegg and the youngest girl made a vigorous attack on Miss Garvice, who had said she thought women lost something infinitely precious by mingling in the conflicts of life. "The ceiling is breaking! the floor is opening! he is coming to me!" cried the unhappy woman. Yes, yes, you do not like the French, and so this English lady here, she is altogether your flesh. She fell into a deep delirium, whispering hoarsely to her dead mother, cursing God in Heaven, cursing her doctor, cursing herself as apparitions of devils and demons pulled at her with yellow ochre hands. " "But they are everything to me," cried Jack, stooping to pick them up. She was practically an outcast, she had not even the ghost of a plan as to her future, and she had something less than five pounds in her pocket. She sank upon her knees and unbuttoned his coat.
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