" "Not at fisticuffs, perhaps," interrupted Jack, fiercely; "but I've my knife. Next instant he had her immobilised, her hands behind her back, her chest crushed to his, the white veil slipping once again. I don't want her hurt. She liked the animated eagerness of his manner. "No, I don't. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. "No friend like the mother, for the babby knows no other.
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