By the time I had recovered myself she had gone. It was in fact the first embrace of motherhood she had ever known. There was an eerie sense of brooding menace about an uninhabited establishment. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. Jack may be capable of much that is wicked, but he would never lift his hand against his friend,—of that I am assured.
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