Twenty-one, twenty-two. And when I have steeped him to the lips in vice and depravity; when I have led him to the commission of every crime; when there is neither retreat nor advance for him; when he has plundered his benefactor, and broken the heart of his mother—then—but not till then, I will consign him to the fate to which I consigned his father. ‘Not at all ladylike. "Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone. I hardly see you anymore. There was already a score or more of people there, some standing up and talking together, others seated in chairs ranged along the wall. I’m rather scornful. She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald.
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