Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. “I’m really very sorry. "Jack," said Wild, with a glance of malignant triumph, "I will now tell you what I have done. I don’t see what you can have to say. " "Don't be too sure of that," rejoined Kneebone, snatching up the staff, and aiming a blow at his head, which was fortunately warded off by Mrs. He had not had time to aim the pistol.
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