"Hell's curses!" muttered Jonathan between his teeth; "that fool will ruin all. We may be stopped. " Pain was stabbing him, now here, now there; pain was real enough; but he could not establish as a fact in his throbbing brain the presence of his aunt in the doorway. The kissing of the book struck her as particularly odd, and then the policemen gave their evidence in staccato jerks and stereotyped phrases. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. Let me make your future for you.
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