He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. "Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. She was enchanted by the beauty of the other girls, who were magically transformed into fairies and elves by makeup into seemingly unfamiliar yet glamorous new people. ’—he’s frightfully anti-Mendelian—having it all their own way. Can't I make you see?" "But I'm telling you Ruth loves you. I never let her read stories, or have pets, dolls.
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