Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. “Dinner is served, ma’am,” he announced to Mrs. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. She had fallen asleep on the wooden bed, uncaring of lice or bedbugs. " "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. The general propositions of Socialism, for example, struck her as admirable, but she certainly did not extend her admiration to any of its exponents. "I fear not," replied Jack, despondingly.
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