"Keep off, you accursed jade!" roared Jonathan, "—off, I say, or—" And he struck her a violent blow with his clenched hand. "I must tell you," she was saying. Barleycorn had sent to the mat for the count of nine: unless the young fool's daddy had a bundle of coin. It filled his thoughts for the rest of the day, and became an obsession. They ought to put a lamp.
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