Oh, I wish he would cease tormenting me with letters for money?
I have no more money to give him: we are getting poor.

I must send away half the servants and shut up part of the house; or let it off.

I can never submit to do that--yet how are we to get on?
Two-thirds of my income goes in paying the interest of mortgages.

John gambles dreadfully, and always loses--poor boy! He is beset by sharpers: John is sunk and degraded--his look is frightful--I feel ashamed for him when I see him." She was getting much excited.

"I think I had better leave her now," said I to Bessie, who stood on the other side of the bed.
"Perhaps you had, Miss: but she often talks in this way towards night--in the morning she is calmer." I rose.