She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. You've heard the news, I suppose?" "That the death warrant's arrived," returned Edgeworth Bess, bursting into a flood of tears; "oh, yes! we've heard it. He wanted to put on his overcoat and come after you and look for you—in London. And all the third act is love-sick music. Jackson?" said Wood, significantly. "Surely," he added, staring at Rowland, "either I'm greatly mistaken, or it is—" "You are not mistaken, Baptist," returned Rowland with a gesture of silence; "it is your old friend. Sheppard, with an agonized look at Wood.
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