Wood in the deepest mourning. Knowing the South Seas from hearsay and by travel, he knew something of that inertia which blunted the fineness, innate and acquired, of white men and women, the eternal warfare against indifference and slovenliness. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. And, though it's a long time ago, I feel as sore on the subject as ever. Fly! fly!" "Do not think of me, mother, but of yourself," cried Jack, in an agony of tears. There were words, then, that ran on indefinitely, with reversals? Here they meant one thing; there, the exact opposite. There you are, the best client’s chair.
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