‘You will like to marry me, yes?’ she pursued. She guessed Jack was having trouble finding the right piece of carving. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. She touched it, and her gaze lifted. "Here, take this and get the letter and open and read it. “I speak from my heart, and you answer from your brain. Somebody ought to talk to him, warn him.
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