But never would any so dishonour himself as to hand a fellow rogue over to the authorities. With his arms bare, the neckband of his shirt tucked in, he laboured. ” Sheila snarled. God! I have cheated myself into a belief that the boy perished! And now my worst fears are realized —he lives!" "As yet," returned Jonathan, with fearful emphasis. Then, very awkwardly, he took a stool and placed it at the end of Ann Veronica’s table, and sat down.
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