Wood was an old friend of mine—and I recollect seeing Jack when he was bound 'prentice to him. You and I. ” She felt humiliated. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. " Prudence shrugged. " "Are you friendly toward him?" asked McClintock, passing a fine cigar across the table. I had consecrated my life to His Work; and I took the primrose path. Jack could hardly be accounted good-looking: Thames, on the contrary, was one of the handsomest boys possible.
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