" "Mother!" cried Jack, in a broken voice. She stood up and he sat down at the microscope, and for a time he was busy scrutinizing one section after another. “But you’re wrong. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. That's a most damnable lie; and when she finds out, 'tis then she will not forgive. She was sorry for his liking her too much for his own good, but her need was too desperate to cavil at turning it to useful account. But in the train going home her aunt reasoned it out. “We must go. Then she was turning, ignoring the muttered cursing and the rattling that immediately ensued at the door.
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