“Would you wait for me?” Manning was silent for a space. Uttering a terrible imprecation, Jonathan snatched up the link, and hastily descended the stairs, leaving the Jew behind him. “I don’t know how, but I always manage to find a 164 fiddle if there is one around. "Do you know this picture?" he added, with another significant look, and pointing to the miniature. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring.
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