You certainly had to hand it to these Chinks. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. This gloom was impossible. “Rummy lot we are!” said Roddy. His mother used to live i' this village, just down yonder; but when her son took to bad ways, she went distracted,—and now she's i' Bedlam, I've heerd. ” She pointed with shaking fingers to a great bunch of dark red carnations, thrust carelessly into a deep china bowl, to which the card was still attached. .
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