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Where was the expected message from this captain, who had promised to send her word at the instant Gerald returned to town. Last night there had been no time. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. “HASSELL’S CAMP, “NEAR COLORADO. ” “I don’t care. I was being stupid. Then his tiny bow mouth opened into an adoring smile.
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