"Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. ‘I wish you joy of the wench. He made a movement toward her, and then recalled the circumstances of their last conversation in that study. White, who held out her hand and beamed a welcome upon him. "Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus.
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