‘Parbleu,’ she uttered indignantly. Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster. "Drink this," cried Jonathan, handing her the cup. Have I your final answer?" "You have, Sir Rowland," she answered, in a feeble tone, but firmly.
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