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"Whose child can this be?" "How the devil should I know!" replied Jonathan gruffly. Would Gerald wish his friend to follow the man? He had hardly registered the decision that he had best do so, albeit with some reluctance, when his trained senses alerted him to an extraordinary circumstance. The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold. He wouldn’t like it if people did it to him. As far as I recollect, there were two. "I cannot do it. We shall both, I hope, live to enjoy our shares—long after Thames Darrell is forgotten—ha! ha! A third of your estate I accept. You may fall into the hands of your enemy. It’s a mismatch. He was asleep when Jonathan entered, and growled at being disturbed. It's almost incredible.
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