“You don’t know him, Anna,” she said with a little shudder, “or you would not talk like that. Not much. ” “Do you think he’ll come after you?” “Why would he do that? It has been three hundred 239 years. Fly! fly!" "Do not think of me, mother, but of yourself," cried Jack, in an agony of tears. I didn’t realize—I don’t see how I can get out of it now.
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