Gregory B. "Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat. "I'm dumb. “Where to?” he asked, as the hansom drove up. “It’s bound to be all right,” she said. There was none. She smiled encouragingly, laying aside her plate and turning her chair from the table. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off.
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