Hence!" "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, in a voice, the tones of which were altered by his very anxiety to make them distinct, "listen to me. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. Her sense followed the shoulders under his coat, down to where his flexible, sensitive-looking hand rested lightly upon the table. Slowly, he drew back his head and looked into her face. \" She replied. I can’t help it.
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