Spurling," said Jonathan, who overheard the whisper, "you owe your situation to me. He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. ‘Is he meeting you here then, my dear?’ ‘He had better,’ said Lucilla. “Do not be frightened, dear,” she said. He looked melancholy enough, it is true.
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