The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. This was occasioned by Jonathan Wild, who was seen to mount his horse and join the train. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. ” He stared at her, trying to guess at the mystery of her thoughts. She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. It surprises you.
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