Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. The Iron Bar. I want to give you time to think. "I loved you," replied Jack,—"don't start—it is over now—I loved you, I say, as a boy. Briefly, with a careless wave towards the couple, the comtesse presented them as Monsieur and Madame Valade. Warm reality was now so near her she could hear it beating in her ears. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. Her glasses moved quickly as her glance travelled from face to face.
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