After occupying himself thus for the best part of an hour, he thought Jack must have given him the slip. Besides, she will do no such thing. I will make her my Grail, and some day, perhaps, if God wills, she shall become my wife!’” He looked very hard before him as he said this, and his voice was full of deep feeling. The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood. He took some Oreos from the bottomless supply that stocked the cookie jar. "The end is the most beautiful in English literature. All the same, I wish I had that fellow by the throat! Just the virile, unregenerate man in me wishes that. “How dare you? You are trying to kidnap my babies!” Clotilde demanded.
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