Miss Miniver said that if once she lost her faith in Tolstoy’s sincerity, nothing she felt would really matter much any more, and she appealed to Ann Veronica whether she did not feel the same; and Mr. “My friend,” she said, “no! Let me tell you this. And when I have steeped him to the lips in vice and depravity; when I have led him to the commission of every crime; when there is neither retreat nor advance for him; when he has plundered his benefactor, and broken the heart of his mother—then—but not till then, I will consign him to the fate to which I consigned his father. She entered the room in the shadows. Her depression since the “accident” had possessed her, she no longer cared how she looked as her beauty helped her not. Aren’t I asking—asking plainly now?. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. However, I'd rather have a blow from the daughter than the mother.
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