"Shall I never see that sweet face again,—never feel the pressure of those kind hands more—nor listen to that gentle voice! Ah! yes, we shall meet again in Heaven, where I shall speedily join you. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. Without care he will die. “It is a delightful day for walking, but a great deal too cold to be standing on the pavement. For a time I didn't know we'd ever find you. "I won't trouble you further, Jack," he remarked. Something seemed awry. I shall barely be in time for the theatre.
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