‘Nothing of the sort,’ argued Gerald. I dare not reflect upon the effect that her son's fate,—if the efforts to save him are ineffectual,—may have upon her enfeebled frame, and still worse upon her mind. We were two people with a craving. He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end. “Oh, but life is difficult!” she groaned. ” “Did it hurt when we did it?” His voice rose, inflamed with worry. .
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