Wood was an old friend of mine—and I recollect seeing Jack when he was bound 'prentice to him. She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. . . Originally built, as its name imports, in a cylindrical form, like a modern Martello tower, it had undergone, from time to time, so many alterations, that its symmetry was, in a great measure, destroyed. Her concluding paragraph was, on the whole, perhaps, hardly starchy enough. But at this point he was still subservient, still outwardly humble, in spite of the blackhearted villainy that was even then burgeoning in his breast. She was frightfully hungry. She was standing before a window, against the background of the rain-burdened April sky.
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