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" "You are an angel, I say," continued the poor maniac; "and my Jack would have been like you, if he had lived. These galleries were separated in the middle by iron grates. By the time he had reached St. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers.
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