She uttered a little ejaculative note of joy and rushed to the bed. “Wild horses—not if they have all the mounted police in London—shan’t keep me out. When the carpenter concluded his recital, Jonathan was for a moment lost in reflection. “You found the cabochon? After all these years?” He asked, incredulous. Hurt beyond what he could imagine by the selfishness and pride of her forbears, whose fateful disputes had robbed her of the life she should have led, the plucky little devil had taken matters into her own hands. "But, I own, I think it is like.
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