Further on, there was a small chandler's shop, where Jack observed an old woman seated at the counter, attended by a little girl. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. She could not help but admit that she liked being smiled at and addressed in the hallways by hordes of friendly faces. From under his pillow he dragged forth the key to the trunk. "I've done all I can to the portrait here. For a moment her heart seemed to stop beating. ’ ‘I do.
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