" "Alice in Wonderland!" cried Prudence, perhaps a little enviously. " "Mother!" cried Jack, in a broken voice. Creeping stealthily up stairs, unmasking a dark lantern, and glancing into each room as he passed, he was startled in one of them by the appearance of Mrs. . He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. That’s as far as we go. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. The moisture from the sea was constant, and she spent countless hours staring at the sea from the west tower, the rise and fall of waves. . " With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break.
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