"When it thunders, the thief becomes honest," muttered Wood. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. "Now come along, Jack. Anna did not pause, but she looked over her shoulder with slightly lifted eyebrows. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. Non. Better come another morning.
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