CHAPTER XIX. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. "You are my prisoner, Jack. He found Abraham on guard as he had left him.
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