Jonathan's wicked threat is fulfilled at last. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. I’ll be ready in a moment. It was a serene and charming evening, and twilight was gently stealing over the face of the country. "To be sure he has!" returned Mrs. Spurlock was no longer a man before this instinct; he was a child in trouble.
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