My heart fails me. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. “You were there, were you?” He laughed a little impatiently. Two shots were fired at him by Jonathan; one of which passed through his hat, and the other through the fleshy part of his arm; but he made good his retreat. 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.
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