CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. “You don’t want to go?” “No. "Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways. " "Loved me! You!" "I loved you," continued Jonathan, "and struck by your appearance, which seemed above your station, inquired your history, and found you had been stolen by a gipsy in Lancashire. He was normal now, and the coat was only a coat. .
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