No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. “I’m really very sorry. " "Sit down, my dear, sit down," interposed Mrs. " Jack, meanwhile, was carried to Newgate. " "But you will,—won't you?" she rejoined, looking him coaxingly in the face. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. ‘I know that, miss. The will to live had returned. We've got to get him to care. A severe pang shot through Jack's heart, and he would have given worlds if he possessed them to have seen his friend once more. .
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