She bolted upright as she heard footsteps rumble towards the door, cursing UPS for being so damn persistent in such foul weather. "If Jack would come to my house, I'd contrive to hide him," remarked a buxom dame. The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure. Yet an indiscriminating, wrong-headed world gave such fellows all sorts of distinctions. Jonathan had not deceived him.
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