‘You’re speaking the truth. " "Why, what the devil's this?" vociferated Jonathan, looking up. Take that box, and put it into the carriage yourself. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. “My chief,” he said, “took it into his head to have an impromptu dinner party.
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