“Vee!” said Miss Stanley, “you hear what your father says!” Miss Stanley struggled with emotion. He had become an extremely handsome man, his hair having darkened and his shoulders having realized their full size. Jack fell on his knees beside her. If you'd read your husband's dying speech, you'd know that he laid his death at Jonathan's door,—and with reason too, as I can testify. He wondered why she thought love made people happy, and began to talk of the smilax and pinks that adorned the table. He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt.
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