There is no Heaven for your mother. Her shoulders began to ache. The ladies can't sleep in their beds for him; and as to the men, they daren't go to bed at all. No; the future was not so dark; there was a bit of dawn visible. They came teeming distressfully through her aching brain: “A man can kick, his skirts don’t tear; A man scores always, everywhere. I must bless him before I die.
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