‘I suppose you think I can’t manage it myself,’ had complained Captain Roding sarcastically. “I’m rather a persistent person. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. I have counted you, and always hoped to count you, the best of my friends. ” He groaned. Jonathan threw open the street-door.
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