But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. Her lips parted, but no words came. You’re of age— you’re of age. But, alas! she was beautiful—and beauty is a crime not to be forgiven by a jealous woman. " "Stand off, Poll," rejoined the woollen-draper; "I don't want to hurt you. It’s to do with adolescence. I know what I am talking about. You understand me, I’m sure. What was it she had expected? Surely her moods were getting a little out of hand.
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