"Granted it were as you say, Jack," said Wild;—"and I sha'n't take the trouble to contradict you—the estates would be yours hereafter. “And we will sail that splendor wide, From day to day together, From isle to isle of happiness Through year’s of God’s own weather. I'm almost sorry I've sworn to hang you. 277 “I was beginning to think that I would never see you again, Lucy.
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