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The young lady in the bureau said she would inquire, and Ann Veronica, while she affected to read the appeal on a hospital collecting-box upon the bureau counter, had a disagreeable sense of being surveyed from behind by a small, whiskered gentleman in a frock-coat, who came out of the inner office and into the hall among a number of equally observant green porters to look at her and her bags. She refused to eat. Austin, may repeat it if he pleases to his master, Jonathan Wild,—I have not. Does that boy live in some sort of personal cave? Like, I think he might even be thinking about asking you out again! That is what I think. No breakfast, he’s had no dinner, hardly a mouthful of soup— since yesterday at tea. “I hope you realize,” he went on, in a lower and less assured tone, “that I am in earnest—very much in earnest. "Tell him that I—his adopted son, Thames Darrell— am detained here by Jonathan Wild.
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