" "There was Father," suggested Angelina gently. “I see the difficulty. We will beg our bread and our shelter, and our passage on a boat. But it's confounded inconvenient. “How would you prevent it?” she asked. The boy she had loved was gone. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. He grabbed her hair viciously and whispered loudly into her tear-streaked face.
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