"Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. ” He too rose. Folding his arms, he placed his back against the door, and burst into a loud laugh. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. What do you know about her, Fred? I am interested. Come! come!" "Hear me, mother," cried Jack, "and I will explain to you why the villain makes this strange and revolting proposal. " "Understand what?" "You or this girl. ” Again that curious smile which puzzled him so much parted her lips for a moment. What ho! lights! lights!" And, shouting as he went, he flung himself down stairs.
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