A murmur ran through the assemblage, by several of whom Jack was recognised. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. “I have not the least idea who he is. Prudence Remenham. . . She came with such force that she feared he might be pushed out from 193 the contractions, which did not happen.
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