"My mother,—my poor mother!" exclaimed Jack. The Return. He “went in” for microscopy in the unphilosophical Victorian manner as his “hobby. Ruth could not be told now. She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. The costume of this personage was somewhat singular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition.
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