“Please forgive me. “It has been a delightful evening for me. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. Flowers, theatre boxes, carriages, the “open sesame” to the whole world of pleasure. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form. She hurried with Jack as fast as she could to the open door to the passage. There must be something, one feels, in ideas that achieve persistently a successful resurrection. Somebody to depend upon her; somebody to have need of her, if only for a little while. With an open hand, he slapped her face.
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