"There," cried Jackson, closing the book and rising, "that'll do. “I believe she’s dressing up-stairs—now. She was quite unconcerned. Marry, come up! I'll show him what an injured wife can do. "I believe he's gone," he said, returning to Jonathan. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling.
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