One can't help being jealous, you know, even of an unworthy object. I am sorry, but you have spoilt me. At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. She was saying good-bye to childhood and home, and her making; she was going out into the great, multitudinous world; this time there would be no returning. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. " "Do not talk thus, dear mother," returned Jack, gazing anxiously at her pale countenance, "or I shall not be able to quit you. ” She said. “I suppose delusions are not uncommon to patients in his condition.
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