” “I am rebuked,” she declared. "Mother!" cried Jack, springing towards her. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. Most of the horses were dead, all but three stallions and two mares left among what was once a thriving stable. Wood's anxiety to please her distinguished guests speedily displayed itself in a very plentiful, if not very dainty repast. She didn’t trust Gianfrancesco, you know, she called him a ‘bad husband’.
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