His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. "Whose child can this be?" "How the devil should I know!" replied Jonathan gruffly. It is positively hateful to think of it. “I want some advice,” said Ann Veronica. But the sheer immensity of the tract! James Boyle was certainly up against it, hard. A victim of one of those mental typhoons that scatter irretrievably the barriers of instinct and breeding; and he had gone on the rocks all in a moment.
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