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There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. " "But how in the Lord's name was she brought up? There's a queer story back of this somewhere. When night fell, he crept into the town of Tottenham.
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