" "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. To have sprung this upon them to-night would have been worth a thousand pounds. Even now, during the recurring doubts of the future, the thought of the island was repellent. She did not hear his approach, but continued her occupation without raising her head. A dresser, a washstand, and a clothes press. You have grown into my life. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas. Fifty pupils. I knew where I would go next: Florence. They were so good to me.
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