"Do you compare your love—a love which all may purchase—with hers? No one has ever loved me. "I'm sure little Jack has but one friend beside myself, in the world, and that's more than I would have ventured to say for him yesterday. At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky. The Jacobite.
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