"The devil!" ejaculated Jonathan. "How is Mr. . . ” “It is Number 8, Cavendish Square,” she answered simply. We were only—les autres. ‘I might have killed you,’ she snapped, ‘if only you did not say anything. In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire. ‘Yes, but I do not know why he should wish to do so, and therefore I cannot permit that he interferes. " "I'll tell you what.
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