"Jack," exclaimed the widow, starting up and drawing back the curtain. ‘I will not, if you will assure me that an imbecile is a better marriage prospect than a starving pig. "What for?" demanded Wood. As long as your son observes that precept I'll befriend him, but no longer. He's on the ragged edge. Good riddance to bad rubbish. It was now a quarter past twelve. "But you are a good man, and you'll understand.
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