"Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. The child was now within reach; and, in another moment, he would have executed his deadly purpose, if an arm from behind had not felled him to the ground. "She wouldn't let me go. She must speak to Jack. Manning’s proposal of marriage and finding she was thinking of the dance. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. He sat with folded arms and knitted brows, thinking intently.
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