The doorbell tinkled and Michelle grabbed her purse and rushed down the creaky wooden stairs. “Maybe we could swing a scholarship to Boston College for you, you know, with your violin and all. " "Now, mark me," said Jonathan, "and you'll find I don't do things by halves. "Whose child can this be?" "How the devil should I know!" replied Jonathan gruffly. Giving him a wide berth, and keeping her pistol high, she made her way to the door and warily peered through it.
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