"There won't be much left for you," he said. " There was no danger in admitting this fact. "Do you think I would take a harlot to my bed, if it didn't suit my purposes to do so?" "He says right," replied Mrs. "Your mother is dead," interposed Wild, scowling. He wasn't satisfied with an assured income from the paper-mills your grandfather left us. Mere hangers on. I’ll do it. As he returned to the table, he put his finger to his nose; and, though he said nothing, he thought he had a much better chance of winning his wager. Sheppard heaved a deep sigh, and opened her eyes, which now looked larger, blacker, and more melancholy than ever. One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms.
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