He glanced up. "Took a great fancy to you. There it is. “They ought to have been lopped in the spring. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. “I wonder which of us is right,” she said. ‘Gérard!’ ‘Yes, it’s I,’ he said, and grinned. ‘The old man who lives here, idiot. I know I am undeserving of your bounty; but if I were to tell you what hardships I have undergone—to what frightful extremities I have been reduced—and to what infamy I have submitted, to earn a scanty subsistence for this child's sake, —if you could feel what it is to stand alone in the world as I do, bereft of all who have ever loved me, and shunned by all who have ever known me, except the worthless and the wretched,—if you knew (and Heaven grant you may be spared the knowledge!) how much affliction sharpens love, and how much more dear to me my child has become for every sacrifice I have made for him,—if you were told all this, you would, I am sure, pity rather than reproach me, because I cannot at once consent to a separation, which I feel would break my heart. “We should get out of here. ’ “Crude, I admit. His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness. I made Hainault’s acquaintance, stood him drinks, lent him money. ‘Ah, Madame Joan.
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