Her anger died and she eyed him. Her eyes quizzed the major. " "Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer; "the ghost of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt. “Of course,” he ventured, “I could try for more at the ‘Alhambra. “By Jove!” he broke out, “one tries to take a serious, sober view. I'm almost sorry your suspicions are unfounded, if your father in any way resembled you, my youngster. But you must promise me not to go near that abandoned hussy at Willesden. “Then you—you will?” A long pause. “You must tell me the truth, and I will see that no harm comes to you.
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