’ ‘In a way she had been,’ said Prudence. “But you yourself,” she exclaimed, glancing into his face, “you too look tired. “Fearful old fogey! I can’t imagine any sister of yours putting up with him for a moment. "Oh God! she is dying," exclaimed Jack in a voice suffocated by emotion. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. ‘Still more would I be so if he had come himself to tell me this.
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