Clinging to the faded skirts of their mother were three hungry-eyed
anaemic children, a girl and two boys.
"How are you, Nell?" inquired Helen, giving the woman a kiss that
seemed almost to frighten her. "It's been two years since I've seen
you."
"I'm not very well, Helen," the other replied, wearily. "I've about
given up all hope of ever seeing any better days. But what brings you
here? I didn't expect ever to see you again."
"Now, Nell, don't talk that way," Helen protested. "You know--or maybe
you don't know it--that I would do anything in the world to help you
out of this unhappy condition, but Dave's way of looking at things
makes it impossible. If you had any vitality I would urge you to leave
him and earn your own living."
"But I haven't any left, Helen," said the discouraged woman; "and I
don't believe I'll ever recover any. I've rested hope after hope on
Dave's assurances of his ability to make a success in life. Really he
is a queer genius, and I don't use the word genius entirely with
disrespect. In some ways he's clever, very clever, but in other ways
he is the most impossible man you ever knew. I believe he is
thoroughly honest, but he has no idea of the value of money or what it
means to his family.
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