Your lamented mother, whose loss I shall ever deplore, perceived my passion and encouraged it. And for me there is only one treasure-house. Still—” Then, with incredible and obviously deliberate stupidity, and a voice as flat as her own, he asked, “Who is the man?” Her spirit raged within her at the dumbness, the paralysis that had fallen upon her. The hurricane had now reached its climax. " "Your own was equally so," said Jackson ironically. Manning; and repeated, “a sort of history.
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