CHAPTER XXXII. "If you've done wrong, confess it, and I'll forgive you!" "I don't deserve to be forgiven!" returned Jack, bursting into tears; "for I'm afraid I've done very wrong. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes. It was so hopeless to put it to them. She hoped that he would at long last remember his young male pride. "Shir Rowland Trenchard's affair— eh?" "That's it," rejoined Jonathan; "I expect him here every minute. She came to her one day and pulled on her apron. "It must look sharp then, or I shall give it the slip," laughed Ben: "the gale never yet blowed as could perwent my crossing the Thames. “It’s about forty pounds.
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