Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. But escape to where? She thought of the ships that sailed from the peninsulas to hot deserts where spices were traded. For a few days she was fascinated by the place, exploring the moldy rooms, the weird treasures hiding in forgotten trousseaus. . Something or other—she did not catch what—he was damned if he could stand. ” “But waive that point.
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