" "Why, what the devil's this?" vociferated Jonathan, looking up. They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room. Jack was completely overcome. "And the next time Captain Darrell wants a witness, I promise you he shan't look for one in vain. There are way-stations—even terminals. There are no funerals among the poor, only burials. By a sort of instinct. He wasn't satisfied with an assured income from the paper-mills your grandfather left us.
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