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" "Can I not carry you where you can obtain help?" cried Jack in a agony of distress. “I do mean that,” she declared. Looking sullen, he released the handle and sat back. The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. Wood scarcely knew where he was. It was his particular hobby, and the leisure he had to apply to it had given him a remarkable appraising eye. Come into the parlour, Winifred, and dry your eyes directly, or I'll send you to bed. E.
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