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What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. Mr. There's another lad at the gate waiting for him—the same who was here just now, that Sir Rowland was speaking of, who fastened up the jewelcase for her ladyship. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. Imagine her, putting herself to all this delay and inconvenience for a young wastrel she did not know and who, the moment he got on his feet, would doubtless pass out of her life without so much as Thank you! And it was ten to one that she would not comprehend the ingratitude. "As you please, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan, with affected indifference; "but I'm not going to hunt the deer for another to eat the ven'son, depend on 't. With great difficulty, Wood forced a path through the ruins. Wood resounded from below.
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