"Leave me to my fate," rejoined Jack. ’ Gerald hissed in a doubtful breath. “You are mistaken, David. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. “Number 13, please, cabman. ’ He did as she bid him, and was very soon rewarded by the discovery of an oval miniature, encased in gold.
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