A struggle of the most terrific kind now ensued. Once she had asked him: "Are you my father?" He had answered: "I am. " "You need not," replied Jack, in a tone of the deepest compunction. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. . ’ Still no response. “I trust,” he said, “that you will recognize the justice of these conditions.
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