" "We shall see," rejoined Jonathan, turning carelessly upon his heel. Your lamented mother, whose loss I shall ever deplore, perceived my passion and encouraged it. And then as we went down you’d try to explain. Remember what the conjuror said. Innumerable little puzzles were instantly solved. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. And I want you for myself—for my wife. Who is the other?” “What other?” Her voice seemed to come from a long way off.
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