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The fact that Jerry was gone whirled in his head. He must find out where his comrade was. Looking down, he saw something which had escaped his first look. It was a black object bobbing about in an eddy off the main rush of the current. He could not be sure that it was Jerry. His wracked bones told him it was only driftwood—that Jerry was gone—that he could make no further effort. But his pride and determination told him he must go on. It might be Jerry and if he did not make sure he could never forgive himself., “Why, John! Are you standing there in your night gown painting?”, Her lover sinking back, endeavoured to conceal his emotions, but the deep sobs which agitated his breast betrayed his anguish, and the tears of every spectator bedewed the sacred spot where beauty, sense, and innocence expired..