" "You don't remember your mother?" "Oh, no; she died when I was very little. We’re handfuls. And my word's law—with you, at least," she added, bestowing a cutting glance upon her husband. We have to hang about in the interval. You have only to look resolute and proceed upon your way. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. ‘Me, I do not need the help of anyone. What was it she had expected? Surely her moods were getting a little out of hand. Brendon,” she said, “if I could ask for advice, or borrow money from any one, I would from you—there! But I cannot.
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