"No friend like the mother, for the babby knows no other. I'm used to insult as I am to misfortune, and am grown callous to both; but I'm not used to compassion, and know not how to take it. Was it ruined?’ ‘But yes, it was entirely ruined. Her whole conduct and tone had been modest and ladylike. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. I want to talk to you, and I must return tomorrow.
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