"I loved you," replied Jack,—"don't start—it is over now—I loved you, I say, as a boy. “And so you have been thinking?” her father began, quoting her letter and looking over his slanting glasses at her. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. Brendon.
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