“Then I don’t take this as final. “I’m still inside you. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. “It isn’t fair. "I knew how it would be," she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, "when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat into the house. I understand. “No reason. . A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood.
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