As soon as he had read it, he let it fall from his grasp. Perhaps the day of her recompense was at hand. "On my soul, yes," rejoined Jonathan. . “By Jove!” he said, “there is something direct about you. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. On taxing his recollection, the whole circumstance rushed to mind with painful distinctness. There were three exit doors. " "Can I trust him?" mused Jack.
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