In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. ” “She’ll meet somebody one of these days—walking about like that. I thought that you were he. “Just hope that the ground doesn’t shift and unearth them. ” “Thank you. Advancing with a slow firm step to the stone-block he placed his left foot upon it, drew himself up to his full height, and fixed a look so stern upon Jonathan, that the thief-taker quailed before it. Of you, I mean.
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