"What would my poor mother say to it?" "I was sorry to see that about your mother, Jack," observed Hogarth. "I know not—and care not," replied Jack. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. "Ruth!" She had gone to the door, aimlessly, without purpose. She fell into a pleasant dream of positions and work. Of this I'm certain, however, she was much too good for him, and was never meant to be a journeyman carpenter's wife, still less what is she now. Killed is too kind a word. I've engaged to watch over you as a son, and I will do so as far as I'm able; but if you neglect my advice, what chance have I of benefitting you? On one point I've made up my mind—you shall either obey me, or leave me. " "Do not go with him, Jack!" shrieked his mother.
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