"I shall state my suspicions to the governor. B. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. "To-night it is their turn," said Jonathan, binding up his wounded fingers with a handkerchief. He was in misery; he was paying for last night's debauch. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. I don’t care what divides us.
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