" "It matters not who I am," replied Jonathan, taking the money. Keeping to the shadow of the house, he crept forward until he could see better without, he hoped, being seen. " He shifted the pages together, rolled and thrust them under her arm. We have to hang about in the interval. What a mercy that the blow aimed at her by the ruffian, Wild, though it brought her to the brink of the grave, should have restored her to reason! Ah! she stirs.
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