The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. Fly! fly!" "Do not think of me, mother, but of yourself," cried Jack, in an agony of tears. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. He was in a curious state of desperation. “You don’t know him, Anna,” she said with a little shudder, “or you would not talk like that. They fight over money all of the time. A woman cannot change her soul. It began as a joke.
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