From time to time the man below would shout, and the boy would let the threads go with the snap of a harpist, only to recover them instantly. They were in many respects so right; she clung to that, and shirked more and more the paradoxical conviction that they were also somehow, and even in direct relation to that rightness, absurd. "I loved you," replied Jack,—"don't start—it is over now—I loved you, I say, as a boy. I swear to you, solemnly swear to you, I will save your son's life, nay more, will befriend him, will place him out of the reach of his enemies, if you consent to become my wife.
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