The Wastrel did not relish this. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. How could she tell him what indeed already began to puzzle herself, why she had borrowed that money at all? The plain fact was that she had grabbed a bait. The boat's sure to run foul o' the bridge; and if she 'scapes stavin' above, she'll be swamped to a sartainty below. "Oh! that I could live to see it," gasped Jonathan. When you send for me I shall come back.
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