” She pulled a small blue box out of the pocket of her hoodie. It was in fact the first embrace of motherhood she had ever known. There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a halfemptied rummer before him,—there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return,—for he was almost past consciousness,—the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear. You can scribble if you want to, but after you've given your eight hours daily to the mills. Instead, she laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. It ought never to have begun.
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