" "I feel it," replied Jack, in a tone of agony, "and I feel it more on my poor mother's account than my own. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous. A male voice, vibrant with terror, yelled out hoarsely. "Oh, easily enough," rejoined the other. Neither of them believed me. That was the wonder of these stories; one lived in them.
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