"Right!—right!" cried Jack, striking his fettered hands against his breast. He made some obvious comments on the wide view warming toward its autumnal blaze that spread itself in hill and valley, wood and village, below. She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill. I don’t care. A severe pang shot through Jack's heart, and he would have given worlds if he possessed them to have seen his friend once more. This is a case either of suicide or murder.
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