"Drink your peg; don't bother about me. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. "Your son is a lad of spirit, Mr. Wanted her out of the way because he had been afraid of her, afraid of himself! He, at fifty-four! Then into this void poured a flaming anger, a blind and unreasoning anger. " "Whom do you mean?" demanded Jackson.
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