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"You are my prisoner, Jack. CHAPTER XI. ‘Tie a horse behind the carriage?’ he echoed incredulously. "Remember; we must keep the young fellow's thoughts away from himself. Wood. ” Drummond shook his head in melancholy fashion. She moaned, having failed in her mission to find her mother and her God. "Where is the boy?" demanded Sir Rowland. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. She stood there limply and did not act to resist him. I want to fill it with fine and precious things. .
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