“We suspect that Mary is alive, and we think she will try to contact you if she ever tracks you down. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. “Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet. ‘I wish you joy of the wench. Half an hour's labour, during which he was obliged more than once to pause to regain breath, sufficed to make a hole wide enough to allow a passage for his arm up to the elbow. ’ Jack Kimble took a deep breath. It wasn’t pretty. ” The three men, who had arrived within a minute or two of one another, received her little speech in dead silence.
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