“And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. "The Wastrel seemed to take it all right. “I suppose, Mr. My janizaries shall go with me. "My sister the wife of one condemned felon! the parent of another! It cannot be. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. It depresses one, you know. Capes agreed with the utmost cordiality. Applying his ear to the keyhole, Jack listened, but could detect no sound.
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