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Who is it?” “Your brother Mike!” Michelle chirruped, sounding uncannily like her mother Diane. "Not so, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan; "you are my prisoner. " "I'm sorry. They were silent and no longer observant, being more or less exhausted by the tedious action of the chairs. With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him.
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