" "You have no son," rejoined Sir Rowland, moodily. " "O Jack, dear, dear Jack!" cried Mrs. She perceived that his countenance was only composed by a great effort, his features severely compressed. You have never known what it is to want food, raiment, shelter. Listen to your mother's prayers, and do not let her die brokenhearted. His foot tapped impatiently, and he took up the papers.
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