“An uncle in New York is dead, and has left him loads of money. " "Dear me!" sympathised Mrs. ‘Of course she don’t understand,’ snapped Charvill irascibly. "What's that?" asked Wild. "Who isn't it like?" he asked, endeavouring to gain possession of the drawing, which, af the sound of his footstep, she crushed between her fingers. "So much the worse," replied Jonathan, rising and taking a turn, as if uncertain what to do. There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea. Father— dead.
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