" "Don't anger him, my dear son," implored the poor widow, with a look of anguish at Jack. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. She thought of them as fools, but had been sorry to see them go. I find it impossible to associate you with—my little friend of the ‘Ambassador’s. “I will take my chance. The inn was a military haunt. ” She shook her head gently.
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