The doctor had sown a seed, carelessly. " "Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer; "the ghost of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. Books; an inexplicable hunger to be satisfied. “Quite unusually cold for the time of year,” he said. She shattered the edifice he was building up of himself as a devoted lover, waiting only his chance to win her from a hopeless and consuming passion.
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