But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago. " "I feel it," replied Jack, in a tone of agony, "and I feel it more on my poor mother's account than my own. Her aunt glanced up startled, and then sat very still, with hands that had ceased to work. This getting up at dawn—real dawn—and working until seven was a distinct novelty. After he was gone in the morning, Ruth would steal into the study and hurriedly read what he had written the previous night.
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