Stanley, standing on the hearthrug with his back to the unlit gas-fire. “No!” Her thoughts had turned in a new direction. "Before to-morrow morning I will ascertain what has become of Thames, or perish in the attempt. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. But Jack speedily burst it open with the iron bar. He had sufficient strength to wait upon himself.
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