The elastic spirits of youth resumed their sway; and, before the coach stopped, his tears had ceased to flow. I was sorry for what I did afterwards; for, I don't know why, but, poor, lady! with her pale face, and black eyes, she reminded me of my mother. . ’ ‘Nothing of the sort,’ Gerald said calmly, sipping at his burgundy. "Yes," replied Jack. "Mother—dear mother! Once again, I beseech you to listen to me.
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