CHAPTER VIII. They said no more for a moment, and each was now acutely aware of the other. “Did you ever see women so weary-looking and so dowdy? They do not talk. But it never said: "Tell someone! Tell someone!" Was he something of a moral pervert, then? Was it what he had lost—the familiar world—rather than what he had done? He stared dully at the footrail. ’ ‘Indeed? Interesting. In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire. But what's to be done?" "The first thing I do," replied Jack, "will be to visit my poor mother in Bedlam. She was surprised to find how stored her mind was with impressions and memories of him, how vividly she remembered his gestures and little things that he had said. All this was the work of a minute. We'll be upon the ban-dogs before they can shake their trotters!" And the alarm was sounded more loudly than ever. I cannot have my wife distressed or worried. He will say who it was.
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