In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. "Oh, God! that I might die too," cried Jack, falling on his knees beside her. Thames did not attempt to offer him any consolation, for he was almost as much dejected. " "There's no hurry. I thought if you were living, and not captured, I should find you here,—and I was right. “Friendships that are all very well between school-girls don’t always go on into later life.
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