"What would my poor mother say to it?" "I was sorry to see that about your mother, Jack," observed Hogarth. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. But it is only fair to warn you that it isn’t expected. I beg that you will consider me your friend. "' Instead of regarding him, Jack glanced over the iron bannisters, and measured the distance.
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