Tell him the truth, Annabel. This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. Wood, however, made known his presence to the individual by laying his hand upon his shoulder. Excited by the scene, Jack, however, could pay little attention to the good man's discourse, and was lost in a whirl of tumultuous emotions. I hope you won’t mind if I say first that I think it does me an extraordinary honor that you should think of any one like myself so highly and seriously, and, secondly, that I wish it had not been written.
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