Ruth did not reply, but stared past the doctor, her eyes misty. "Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. But I don’t care; I haven’t a spark of shame. Wouldn't it be fun to see his name on a book-cover some day? He'll go strutting up and down without ever dreaming he owed the whole shot to us. But out of a belated regard for her father she wrote the surname of some one else. She clasped her hands over her mouth in a silent scream.
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