" "Don't anger him, my dear son," implored the poor widow, with a look of anguish at Jack. I am going up to dine with my sister. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. It always comes out sooner or later. The poor boy, whose hands were pinioned behind him, looked very pale, but neither trembled, nor exhibited any other symptom of alarm.
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