‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. ” He paused with a sense of ineptitude. "Is your master at home?" inquired the jailer. Jack submitted to this scrutiny with a very bad grace, and vehemently protested his innocence. “I was surprised, I admit,” he said. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. Only she was conscious of an unfamiliar and wonderful emotion.
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