Perhaps an hour passed before she laid aside the book. ’ Fire enveloped Charvill’s mind and he brought up his cane, pointed like a musket. Jack Kimble nodded eagerly. He renewed his supplications to Sharples, but with no better success than heretofore; and the greater part of the night was passed by him and the poor widow, whose anxiety, if possible, exceeded his own, in the most miserable state imaginable. . " "Impossible," replied Sheppard, in the same tone. .
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