Over the sea of heads arose a black and dismal object. “Quite on my own,” she said. She caught her breath, and her eyes were lit with a sudden terror. ‘What is this fate?’ ‘Un mariage of no distinction. Sheppard's weight had destroyed the equilibrium of the plank: it swerved, and slowly descended. “Why not?” “Because you are mine. "He's not to blame," said Jack, rising. But it's French manners, I suppose.
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