He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy. I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing. Wood was an old friend of mine—and I recollect seeing Jack when he was bound 'prentice to him. She decided to call in the help of Teddy Widgett, or, failing him, of one of his sisters. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. He waved a hand toward the sea. It was precious for two reasons: it was the photograph of her beautiful mother whom she could not remember, and it would identify her to the aunt in Hartford. Give me the keys and the light. Don't unman him.
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