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He got up. "Heaven have mercy on his soul!" ejaculated Wood. By this time Capes’ hair had bleached nearly white, and his skin had become a skin of red copper shot with gold. From this peaceful scene Jack's eye fell upon Jonathan, who, seated upon the stile, under the shade of an elder tree, was evidently watching him. Would that a certain major might cast upon her such a look. "In case he should consent—" "He never will," interrupted Winifred. The lad had just barely jangled it, when hurrying footsteps could be heard inside. "Long life to the Markis, and we accept his honourable proposal," responded the mob. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself.
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