You know that I am practically destitute, without means or any certain knowledge of where my next meal is coming from. Wood," returned Jackson, with the utmost composure; "you're a headborough, and a loyal subject of King George. “At a boarding-house?” he gasped. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood.
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