“G. "Oh God! she is dying," exclaimed Jack in a voice suffocated by emotion. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. Afterward she wanted to get her letter to her father back in order to read it over again, and, if it tallied with her general impression of it, re-write it. If it was not an actual personal lover, it still might be the lover not yet incarnate, not yet perhaps suspected. But as the next moment all was profound darkness, Jack easily managed to break away from them.
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