In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. Petite build, like herself. Why had Ruth married him? A penniless outcast, for she must have known he was that. "Is it you?" "It is," replied her son, "Oh! why would you not listen to me?" "I was distracted," replied Mrs. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. When the woollen-draper was nearly worn out, the Amazon watched her opportunity, and hitting him on the arm, disabled it. What would happen when next morning she returned to Morningside Park? He couldn’t turn her out of doors.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 22-09-2024 12:57:31
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