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” “Not yet,” he said. He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. "Ah! you are there, my dear young lady," said the widow, smiling faintly; "when I first waken, I'm always in dread of finding myself again in that horrible asylum. To return was impossible,—to raise himself certain destruction. He could neither stifle nor deaden that. "You base ingrate," she added, in a whisper, as she flounced past Mr. Idleness is the key of beggary, Jack. What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience.
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