“Your father is dead too, I believe,” he continued, “and your mother. “Certainly her voice is far more musical. "Do you see any likeness?" "Don't I," returned Jack, bitterly. ” He put his hands on her shoulders and lowered her onto the flat surface of the picnic bench. And this though he was evidently passionately in love with her. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him.
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