And my mother knew it all, yet she admired him. She thought him an
infinitely more wonderful man than my father. Why, in heaven’s name?
Because he was a chapel man, and far more than that, because he was
successful. I can see now, that my mother found it so bitter to be very
poor, with a husband who came home drunk and who was by no means
“respected” in the village, and a dreary family of young children to
bring up, that she had really just one idol, success.
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