"Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. ‘Ah, now I may see what damage Gérard has done to me,’ she muttered, crossing to the table and putting her hand to the sore place at her neck. He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. There was a coffee equipage on the table, and some sandwiches, and the fire had been recently made up.
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