He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. Managers and accountants are always shifting about, so he tells me. Even so much allusion as this to that family shadow, she felt, was an immense recognition of her ripening years. She thought of using her new brute strength to kidnap and ransom Gianfrancesco.
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