"My mother,—my poor mother!" exclaimed Jack. “You poor little girl!” he cried. Papillon would have broken him down; anything tender would have sapped his will; and like as not he would have left the stool and rushed into the night. " So saying, he threw himself into a chair. . . The latch came with a weak click. "Yes, or no?" "I will make no terms with you," rejoined Wild, sternly. “If only I could afford another!” she thought regretfully. .
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