Sheila grabbed the gun and laughed hysterically, brandishing the weapon and baying like a bear. You would find things to laugh at even in Artemus Ward. But those days are over—quite over. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form. ” He relapsed into a stony silence. A fortnight passed, then a month. If he had got off, they might have hanged me, and welcome.
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