“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. "Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. I love my husband. ‘I’ll make it, miss. Practically. Sniveling brats, little fatherless bastards, you should breathe a sigh of relief. ‘Why, that’s one of the names with which she tried to fob me off. Sleep did not come easily, but eventually her mind stopped its chattering and she fell into a deep slumber. For a few minutes all was silent.
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