Jack, meanwhile, heard, the shouts, and, though alarmed by them, held on a steady course. If he had eaten food, this wouldn't have happened. “Someone must have found it and taken good care of it. You must come back. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. You will be under the eye of the best friend I have; and if you do not treat that child for what she is —an innocent angel—I promise to hunt you across the wide world and kill you with bare hands. His gaze remained steady on the old dame’s face, as he thought about it. Brutes! They are the brute still with us! Science some day may teach us a way to do without them. Once he had managed to stake his claim, she would have all to do to prove her identity and win it back. “Why on earth did you TELL me?” he cried.
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