So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. Let him be sure. Imagine her, putting herself to all this delay and inconvenience for a young wastrel she did not know and who, the moment he got on his feet, would doubtless pass out of her life without so much as Thank you! And it was ten to one that she would not comprehend the ingratitude.
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