It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. " "You cannot help yourself, Sir Rowland," replied Jonathan, contemptuously. " "Well, imagination beats me!" "It's something Ruth saw. ” “Are you a detective or a doctor?” she asked calmly. We'll get this chap on his feet if only to learn what the trouble is.
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