Madame shrugged. I—listen. "What has put it into your head that your son yet lives?" he asked. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. Nothing else was put in their place, and they remained sotto voce, as it were, in his mind. "Fire!—murder—thieves!—I've got one of 'em!" "Come along," cried Jack. Then he turned to Anna.
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