I do not wish to return to Paris. She dropped on her knees by his side, and gently unbuttoned his waistcoat. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. "And yet—but it is only part of the chain of ill-luck that seems wound around me. But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance.
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