But out of a belated regard for her father she wrote the surname of some one else. My name is Wild— Jonathan Wild. Since the discovery of them, she had been madly eager to read these typewritten tales. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains. ‘Damnation! Too late. ‘And I trust you will pardon my inadequacies.
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