But he knew. "Oh, God! that I might die too," cried Jack, falling on his knees beside her. A delicate flush of colour streamed into her cheeks. "Excuse me," he said, plunging his fork into a fowl, and transferring it to his plate. All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object.
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