It was Jack, wasn’t it?’ ‘Aye, s-sir. Wrap yourself in my cloak, and keep it. But, on the bursting of that bubble, his hopes vanished with it. " "Pshaw!" said Wild. F. That’s the difficulty. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery.
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