" So saying, he rushed out, followed by Ireton and Langley. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. So now I will say nothing more to you, and you will please to say nothing more to me, for I do not reply. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. "What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley.
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