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Maybe half a year, counting this summer. " "And who is its mother?" asked Jonathan, in an eager whisper. " "Uh-huh. She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the silent, recumbent figure in the bunk. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. Both started. One particularly humiliating thing came out— humiliating for me. Yield, villain!" "Never!" replied Jonathan.
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