"Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. No— no, it must never be. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. She was very satisfied about this. A very familiar face emerged from a crowd at the impromptu bar on the kitchen island. Sheppard, and saw from her terrified look that she had made the same alarming discovery as himself. Poor fellow! he sometimes indulges the hope of marrying you, when he grows old enough.
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