It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered. His anger gave way to grim humour and he thrust towards them, leaning heavily on his cane. "Ho, no," replied Jack. Have you suffered?" "Dear God!… every hour since!" "The Spurlock conscience. "Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave.
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