His appetite was perfectly Gargantuan. My son went down after his death. But if not himself, there would be another soon enough. Jim is up to the neck in Mahatmas and Theosophy and Higher Thought and rot—writes letters worse than Alice. I was sorry for what I did afterwards; for, I don't know why, but, poor, lady! with her pale face, and black eyes, she reminded me of my mother. .
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