My very sentences stumble and give way. \"Yep. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. She thought of how tired she was, how exhausted, how hungry. “I had no idea that it was so abominably late. Just sit down on that stool again and let’s talk of this in cold blood. There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a halfemptied rummer before him,—there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return,—for he was almost past consciousness,—the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear. " "Mother!" cried Jack, in a broken voice. She fondled his penis which was stiff and straining against his pants. “Where have you been? All these hours I have been calling for you.
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