" "Stop!" cried Jonathan, who did not care to push matters too far, "let me have a word with you, Mr. ” “On the contrary,” Anna whispered quietly, “we met in a small boarding-house where I was stopping. And when you reflect how much at heart your poor mother, whose loss we must ever deplore, had our union, you will, I am persuaded, no longer refuse me. He let go of the girl’s arm. And then all her restlessness was turned to joy. And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict.
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