Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. "Is it you?" "It is," replied her son, "Oh! why would you not listen to me?" "I was distracted," replied Mrs. Without whisky," went on McClintock, "your irritability is beyond tolerance. Spurlock advanced, the censer swung high. "Not a single whooper-upter! Nothing but torment and remorse … and Ruth! Children, put your arms around me. But was that enough? Dim, formless suspicions of something more vital wandered about his mind.
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