But at this point he was still subservient, still outwardly humble, in spite of the blackhearted villainy that was even then burgeoning in his breast. Perhaps I deceived you about it. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. " Jackson treated this menace with a loud laugh of derision. He sat in much the same attitude, and she stood just as she had stood when he told her she could not go to the Fadden Dance. Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle. She was poor. He had dungarees on and a blue work shirt. He too, when she had disappeared, called a carriage. By degrees, his fears vanished, and hearing nothing, he grew calmer. ” “You came—here!” he repeated, vaguely.
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