"Shir Rowland Trenchard's affair— eh?" "That's it," rejoined Jonathan; "I expect him here every minute. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. Oh, what’s his name? It’s on the tip of my tongue. I’m damaged goods. The child fell within a short distance of Darrell, who, hearing the splash, struck out in that direction, and caught it before it sank.
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