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"But what is an oath to you!" cried the widow, distrustfully. “Look here, Ann Veronica,” he began. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. "I hardly know," returned Jack; "but it's not safe for me to remain much longer here. A long chest under one of the windows was open, some of its contents dragged out and spilling onto the floor. You have grown into my life. Wood's. Rather! Who could help it?” He towered up over her and smiled down at her in his fatherly way.
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