" "Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer; "the ghost of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. " "Is that all!" retorted Jonathan. He held her eyes. She had adored the stupid thing, and kept it in her pocket for about ten years. They are very good people, you know. Her eyebrows, pulled down by the stress of thought, now resumed their normal arches; and pleased with her discovery, she smiled. In the circles into which he had been born, the passing on of land was of vital importance.
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