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CHAPTER VIII. " "My writing! no such thing!" ejaculated the lady, casting a look of alarm at the woollen-draper. "I fear we're too late," he whispered to Thames. But then you're an adopted son, and that makes all the difference. John was acutely focused upon her now, just as she had wanted him to be. Clotilde rushed out of the house, carrying her boy and tugging her girl by the ear. " "Why, that must be about the time of the Great Storm," rejoined Jackson. “Under the Wilde Frau—which was named after you. " The hooting was instantaneously changed to cheers.
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