It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. "Halloa, widow!" shouted a rough voice from below, "where the devil are you?" Mrs. Not at all. " Her son complied, and sat down upon the patch-work coverlet beside her. “Never. ’ ‘Yes, that rather leapt to the eye,’ Gerald said, and the faint smile sent a lick of warmth down inside her. She had but to choose. " "Do not go with him, Jack!" shrieked his mother.
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