And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud. " "A capital caricature that," remarked Thornhill, laughing. "Whose child can this be?" "How the devil should I know!" replied Jonathan gruffly. " "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy.
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