For an instant, Gerald wished the rest of the world away that he might go to her and administer appropriate comfort. "My father!" she whispered. They could not go on. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. " While this order was obeyed, Figg, who had been standing near the door, made his way to the prisoner, and offered him his huge hand, which Jack warmly grasped.
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