"Your son," replied Jack,—"your miserable, repentant son. Spiders came out of their hiding places to commune in windows, industriously spinning their own designs over the stained glass. Things were thrown here and there, to be taken up, or again cast aside, as the whim arose; while the broken-backed chairs and crazy table bore the marks of many a conflict. ’ To Gerald’s relief, the entrance of the butler interrupted them, relieving him of the necessity to explain himself. “Do you want to ruin me? I shall walk back. Jack Kimble. " The stranger said nothing, but hastily brushed away a tear. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them.
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