‘Precisely. “Dear John,” she whispered. “I am so sorry. Mr. ’ For the moment I thought it was a telegram from Gwen. He became angry. And it has been well for you that he imagines the child was drowned. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. I care for you. She could have kissed Cathy.
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