"Mother—dear mother!" said Jack, bursting into tears. “You may call anytime. He spoke the automatic thought that entered his mind. “Just hope that the ground doesn’t shift and unearth them. Not a bad man as men go, but he would sell whisky and gin. Clearing the few impediments in his way, he soon reached the condemned pew, where it had once been his fate to sit; and extending himself on the seat endeavoured to snatch a moment's repose. " He departed, musing.
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