’ ‘A pox on the creature,’ swore Mrs Sindlesham, clenching and unclenching her stiff fingers. I am a thing to be used. . A shout was heard at a little distance, and, the next moment, a person rushed with breathless haste to the stair-head. You want industry—you want steadiness. CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. All the events of the previous day rushed to his recollection; and though he had been unintentionally the cause of his mother's death, he reproached himself as severely as if he had been her actual murderer.
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