davidevansbailey. Left alone, Jonathan lighted a lamp, and, opening the trap-door, descended the secret stairs. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. Towards this spot Mrs. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. "I shall breathe more freely dere.
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