" "I feel it," replied Jack, in a tone of agony, "and I feel it more on my poor mother's account than my own. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. " "Pray, let me have a pinch!" said Edgeworth Bess, with a captivating glance.
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