"I was right," replied Jack, returning as coolly as if nothing had happened. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. ‘You are stubborn like a mule. "Impossible!" exclaimed the widow, wildly. " "I cannot repent,—I cannot pray," replied Jack, recovering his hardened demeanour.
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