CHAPTER IX. She was finally dead, going to Hell. There is scarcely one chance in a dozen of saving his life; there would be none at all if he were moved. There he stands. And, if it had not been for a taste for plotting, which was continually getting him into scrapes, he might have been accounted a respectable member of society. "As you please, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan, with affected indifference; "but I'm not going to hunt the deer for another to eat the ven'son, depend on 't. I know in Paris you pinched and scraped that your sister might have the dresses and entertainments she desired.
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