"Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. The pearls were really yours?" "They were left to me by my mother. He often wanted only to drive with her in the car, both of them staring at the scenery in silence for hours.
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