"I can readily see," he said, "why you'll always be as poor as a church mouse. But Jonathan was not to be deterred. He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever. "You depart for Lancashire to-morrow. For hats that fail and hats that flare; Toppers their universal wear; A man scores always, everywhere. My only love is for my poor lost son.
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