"Oh, God! that I might die too," cried Jack, falling on his knees beside her. That Frenchie, that’s who she is. She had been so busy with life that, for a vast gulf of time, as it seemed, she had given no thought to those ancient, imagined things of her childhood. "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. "Why you wouldn't stand in the way of his good fortune surely? I'll be a second father to him, I tell you.
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