To the Seven Cities of Refuge Jack proceeded. He renewed his supplications to Sharples, but with no better success than heretofore; and the greater part of the night was passed by him and the poor widow, whose anxiety, if possible, exceeded his own, in the most miserable state imaginable. It was still possible the child might be in safety. I didn’t realize—I don’t see how I can get out of it now. He was standing up with the telegram crumpled in his hand.
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