“I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. I love some one else. At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. " "Stop!" cried Jonathan, who did not care to push matters too far, "let me have a word with you, Mr. Marvel, who was now quite dissolved in tears, "I shall never survive this scene.
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