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"Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. Well, I shall be sorry to lose him, Mr. Certain it was, that the slightest sound aroused him. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. Something in her tone made him look up. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. “We’re here to take your foster daughter down to the station to ask her a few questions sir.
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