“Ruin me? Think of me with fondness? Are you dying of cancer or something?” He demanded. Jonathan cast a hasty glance around, to see that all was properly arranged for his purpose; placed a chair with its back to the door; disposed the lights on the table so as to throw the entrance of the room more into shadow; and then flung himself into a seat to await Sir Rowland's arrival. " "Not your only chance, Thames," returned Jack, in the same undertone; "but your best. A curious silence ensued. I'm sorry.
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