"Well, you women are forgiving creatures, I must say," observed Jonathan, sarcastically. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. She answered in whispers, for there was the white arm of a woman in the next box peeping beyond the partition within a yard of him. Pshaw!" added he, making an effort to subdue his emotion, "I can't leave you in this way. ” She smiled at him cheerfully. I am the richest man in England. Wood, in equal trepidation.
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