"Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility. I'd have got something nice. It tore her apart. That window there…. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. "Ay, what's the matter, boy!" reiterated Jackson sternly. "You dropped this, sir. "Ruth, you must not come and sit on the threshold.
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