" CHAPTER VI. But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly. He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face. Once in, the constable's manner appeared totally changed. You haven’t an idea what the sort of employment you could get there would be like, the sort of people you would be mixed up with. . ’ ‘Oh, don’t I? What do you have under all those petticoats, a holster?’ ‘But yes, and they are empty. I've told you about him; and you wrote a shrewd yarn on the subject. "I'll be his evil genius!" vociferated Jonathan, who seemed to enjoy her torture.
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