She, having all the confidence in the world, ripped off an end and drew out the contents—a letter and a check. “A woman wants a proper alliance with a man, a man who is better stuff than herself. Ireton," cried Jack, in accents of the most urgent entreaty, "before you take me hence, I implore you—if you would further the ends of justice—search this house. Jonathan had not deceived him. Overjoyed beyond measure at having vanquished this apparently-insurmountable obstacle, Jack darted through the door. The summer arrived, speeding the Plague and with it the famine in the streets.
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