ToC As Jack opened the gate, and crossed the little garden, which exhibited in every part the neatness and attention of its owner, he almost trembled at the idea of further disturbing her peace of mind. But there's a person in the hall—a very odd sort of man—waiting to see him, who won't be sent away. "What's that to you?" retorted Jack, surlily. You want industry—you want steadiness. Before there is any change, any real change, I shall be dead—dead—dead and finished—two hundred years!. ’ ‘Don’t be stuffy, Hilary,’ admonished his betrothed.
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