They would arrive sometime in June. "Oh God!" exclaimed Jack, in a tone of the bitterest anguish. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. "Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone. “Read this, John. “I’ve been thinking of you all night,” she answered. “Do you mean to say that you have been here ever since I came?” “I am afraid that I must confess it,” he answered.
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