97 “For what, kiddo?” Larry turned his head slightly to one side. "He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back. “I can’t endure it,” she said. She was powerless to move from her chair. During the narration Jack's features lighted up, and an expression, which would have been in vain looked for in repose, was instantly caught and depicted by the skilful artist. It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. You tried bravely enough to hide your preference, to look at us all with the same eyes, to speak to us in the same tone.
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