"Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. And if she is not a nun, nor a refugee, and yet is entirely English, I’m hanged if I know what she is. He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. "Coupling their presence with Jack's speech, I couldn't help fearing some mischief might ensue. The splendid voices sang on from phase to phase of love’s unfolding, the ship drove across the sea to the beating rhythm of the rowers.
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