CHAPTER XXIV. But it is my fault. “Oh, I can’t thank you. So the talk went on. Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. "Whose child can this be?" "How the devil should I know!" replied Jonathan gruffly. When I carried you up here like a bride, that is the way I wanted us to be, Mary Lucia.
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