Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. But I do not even care if I am absurd. "The end is the most beautiful in English literature. "Hear me, Jack!" shrieked his mother. Go and live somewhere else. "Look here," cried Jonathan, stooping down and taking hold of a ring in the floor, with which by a great effort he raised up a flag. Let her see what she could make here.
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