Diane spoke first. " "Holloa! my hearty!" cried Ben, starting to his feet. At the same time,” she added, in a suddenly altered tone, “it isn’t anything whatever to do with you, is it?” “Why not?” he answered. Wood carved the ducks; Mr. Jack did not advance to meet her. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so.
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