Yon must be mine to-night. It was from Brendon. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words. To the practised eye of the waterman matters wore a very different air. But the crowning glory of Jonathan, that which raised him above all his predecessors in iniquity, and clothed this name with undying notoriety—was to come.
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