" "You believe—you know it," replied Jonathan, fixing one of his sternest and most searching glances upon him. With a gesture which was without any kind of emotional expression, the manager indicated the silent crumpled figure on the floor and gave the room number. ‘Lover’s tiff indeed. ‘Don’t put me at the necessity of marrying the abominable little wretch. "Well," growled Blueskin, "you've had my offer. Now when I tell you exactly the truth, you will also not believe me. You seem altogether altered, too.
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