At least I imagine so, if what Madame Valade claims is true. Take it, I tell you. Quick, now. "Don't go, I beg of you!" she implored. It is enough to make a man throw away canvas and brushes into the bottomless precipices, enough to make one weep with despair at his utter and absolute impotence. It did not take a mind reader to glean that she had suddenly gained the boy’s obsessive attention. Jack may be capable of much that is wicked, but he would never lift his hand against his friend,—of that I am assured.
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