Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. A faint, delightfully humorous smile parted her lips. "What of her?" exclaimed Jack, starting up. “The fool I have been!” he cried; and now speech was coming to him. The path he had selected conducted him to his mother's humble dwelling. "The gentleman under the table," she answered. "I shall go back and finish my supper," said Mrs.
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