‘Well, only look what’s come of it. The ragged edge. ’ It was the Press who forced the identity upon me. Mother! do you know what you do? Would you sell yourself to this fiend?" "I would sell myself, body and soul, to save you," rejoined his mother, bursting from his grasp. "You're only twenty—not legally of age. She could not move. What a heat that news had wrought. Operations then commenced. He was an imaginative young man. If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. " "So you think," muttered Jack, between his ground teeth.
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