"Oh! Jack! Jack!—you little know what a price I've paid for you!" "Well, I'm glad those women are gone," remarked Shotbolt. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. He could not doubt it. They were the only real marriages she had seen clearly. And while her son was reconveyed to prison the body of the unfortunate Mrs. ". White was scattered across the long stretches of pine trees and corn fields. He tore it down just as the Wastrel rose, wavering slightly.
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