Such ambitions as he had were stereotyped and material. The following morning found him in the doctor's waiting room, a black cigar turning unlighted in his teeth. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. "Fool!" he cried, "do you think I wouldn't have secured you before this if I hadn't some motive for my forbearance?" "And that motive is fear," replied Jack contemptuously.
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