Next instant, Gerald felt his wrist seized in an iron grip. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. " "Ask them, all of them, and I will gladly answer. His attraction for her was now written plainly on his freckled face, revealed by the many drinks he had imbibed. Lassitude?” “I suppose so. " "I know not how it is," sighed Darrell, "but I feel an unaccountable misgiving at quitting this place. His looks were fixed on his old benefactor.
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