"Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. "What's that to you?" demanded Jonathan, gruffly. She munched her bland Whopper as he wolfed three in a row, stuffing his mouth with half a dozen French fries at a time.
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