"It was the story of a man, so to speak, who had left his vitals in his native land and wandered strange paths emptily. I’m a female thing at bottom. “Dear John,” she whispered. " "I've had the hard work to do, at all events," rejoined Jack, "But I won't complain. In lieu of the substantial habitations which he had gazed on overnight, he beheld a row of falling scaffoldings, for such they seemed. Upon reading the name, the doctor's eyebrows went up. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. She was inclined to think that perhaps for a girl the converse of his method was the case; an older man, a man beyond the range of anything “nonsensical,” was, perhaps, the most interesting sort of friend one could meet.
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