"But I dread the effect your departure may have upon your poor mother. “I find it very hard to write this letter. You have never known what it is to want food, raiment, shelter. The door was locked; but, with the bars of iron, it was speedily burst open. "Your son," replied Jack,—"your miserable, repentant son. He had already shown the covering envelope and its instructions to Ruth, and she had ignored or misunderstood the warning. There one is! The same stuff still! One has a craving in one’s blood, a craving roused, cut off from its redeeming and guiding emotional side.
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