Courtlaw stood up. ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. Return to him, I say—" "I can't," replied Jack, doggedly. “Your mother was a Gypsy. They were on their way back home, or so she had thought. She listened with dumb fear in her eyes. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse. Moreover, a souple o' porpusses came up with the tide this mornin', and ha' bin flounderin' about i' the Thames abuv Lunnun Bridge all day long; and them say-monsters, you know, always proves sure fore runners of a gale. It’s not you—not a bit. She was too delicate, too fragile to survive out there. Are you prepared to do it?” Her hands clenched.
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