Then began expostulations, preluded by a telegram and headed by her aunt. She came in while he was still in the throes, conviction battling with commonsense, his own apprehension. It’s—Mrs. ‘I thought it must be you,’ cried the woman. Your career at the bar had given you a command of language, also a self-control not vouchsafed to us ordinary mortals. I will have nothing to do with you. The reward is mine. She was given a glimpse of his soul. " "Perhaps not," replied Jack, carelessly.
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