" "Let me touch you, then; let me feel if you are really flesh and blood," cried the poor maniac, creeping towards him on all fours. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. " "Come this way, Mr. " "Take it back yourself," retorted Jack, sullenly. He remembered that, before he attempted to dislodge the stone, he had placed the child in a cavity of the pier, which the granite mass had been intended to fill. " Something reached down into his heart and twisted it. ‘Do not imagine that I will leave poor Jacques. I’ll do it.
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