" "You won't complain of the delay when I tell you what I've done," answered Jack. “What can one say?” she exclaimed. I sometimes laid away my father's clothes in his trunk. The material cares of life hang about your neck like a millstone. There it is—against you. You creep around in a nun’s habit, peering into a private ballroom. This man and he were alike, and about the same age.
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