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. Figg," said Jack. And shall their wretched offspring live to blight my hopes, and blast my fame? Never!" And, with these words, he grasped Wood by the throat, and, despite his resistance, dragged him to the very verge of the platform. "Where is he, then?" demanded the other, hastily. ‘But this is not to my blame, grandpére. ‘She won’t. I wrote three letters yesterday and tore them up.
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