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‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Martha begged. Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. "Hear the letter," said Ireton, breaking the seal. "A friend," replied Jonathan, uncocking the pistol, and placing it in his pocket. When she got back to her questions again in the monotonous high-road that led up the hill, she found the image of Mr. .
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