Wood," said Jonathan, advancing towards him, and speaking in a low tone, "the secret of your adopted son's birth is known to me. CHAPTER VIII. She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house. She had already realized that this instructress was hopelessly wrong and foggy—it is the test of the good comparative anatomist—upon the skull. Either it was an unfortunate recovery of a trail, or he had followed her from Mayfair.
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