Papillon would have broken him down; anything tender would have sapped his will; and like as not he would have left the stool and rushed into the night. "Mother!" cried Jack, springing towards her. “I have a letter for him from his brother, which I was just leaving. Finding all attempts at conversation with his companion in misfortune in vain, Wood, in order to distract his thoughts, looked up at the gigantic structure standing, like a wall of solid darkness, before him. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. Like a nightmare memory that returned again and again to haunt her. Perhaps that other boy who visited you backstage at the concert.
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