His own father and his grandfather were of the
same kind, and they knew of nothing but poverty in their family. But somewhere
far back in the line there had been a root of aristocracy, the glory of some
noble ancestor and then some trage
...
His own father and his grandfather were of the
same kind, and they knew of nothing but poverty in their family. But somewhere
far back in the line there had been a root of aristocracy, the glory of some
noble ancestor and then some tragedy, long since forgotten, that had brought the
descendants to the gutter. Something about all the Wynands--in tenement, saloon
and jail--did not fit their surroundings. Gail’s father was known on the
waterfront as the Duke.
Gail’s mother had died of consumption when he was two years old. He was an only
son. He knew vaguely that there had been some great drama in his father’s
marriage; he had seen a picture of his mother; she did not look and she was not
dressed like the women of their neighborhood; she was very beautiful. All life
had gone out of his father when she died. He loved Gail; but it was the kind of
devotion that did not require two sentences a week.
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