You know very well that you took from my easel David Courtlaw’s study of me, and sent it to Cariolus. She is your sister, and God knows I wish her none. "Where is he, then?" demanded the other, hastily. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. "Thames was always your favourite," observed Jack, as he fastened another piece of wood on the teeth of the iron stopper. "Your sister is dead," said he, in a deep whisper.
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