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” He said to her, quite unsure of whether or not he was dreaming. "On my soul, yes," rejoined Jonathan. “Why should I bear the burden of your wickedness? Who knows what might come of it? I shall permit nothing of the sort. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. “Will you say what you have to say, please, and go.
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