" While this order was obeyed, Figg, who had been standing near the door, made his way to the prisoner, and offered him his huge hand, which Jack warmly grasped. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. No one seeing you together could doubt that she is your granddaughter. And he began also at times to wake at night and think about her. He thought of her and himself, and no longer in that vein of incidental adventure in which he had begun. ” “You will let us hear from you—let us know where you are, very soon?” Annabel called out from the step.
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