This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. “I have heard these things from you before, and you have had my answer. "Right!—right!" cried Jack, striking his fettered hands against his breast. " "Do you want me to tell her that I am grateful?" "Well, aren't you?" "I don't know; I really don't know. She started forward.
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