Jack had got into one of the pens at the north side of the chapel. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. "I'm quite at your disposal. Wood. “Excellent!” he exclaimed. ” “You think that you can do that?” “I am sure of it,” he answered, confidently.
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