The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. The calvacade was now put slowly in motion. Perhaps that was the reason that they both remained standing. " "Oh, Jack!" cried his mother, falling upon his neck, and covering him with kisses. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. . She had turned round sideways, so as to look down into the fire.
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