At a sign from Ah Cum, official custodian of the sightseers, the polechair coolies pressed toward the left and halted. Give me the chisel, Blueskin. ” She took the pocket-book and looked up at him with a little impulsive movement. “But I am sorry,” she exclaimed. “Let me help you,” he begged. "Oh God! she is dying," exclaimed Jack in a voice suffocated by emotion.
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