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The next morning came a compact letter from her father. She interrupted. "I've said it," rejoined Jonathan, peremptorily. Then there was also the horse. His literary instincts began to stir. And then all her restlessness was turned to joy. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. To-night all this may seem hard and cruel. Jarvis did not leave a will. ‘Do you think I would do to him as he made a threat to do to me? No. ” “Nice clean hardness, anyhow.
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