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And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. She dropped beside the chair, sat cross-legged, and laughed at the futile jade-coloured wall. He made a movement toward her, and then recalled the circumstances of their last conversation in that study. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. Charvill does not believe the general will accept them. You've saved my life.
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