You did not complain then that I personated you—no, nor when Sir John came to me in Paris, and for your sake I lied. Late in July he finished the fourth story. "Who isn't it like?" he asked, endeavouring to gain possession of the drawing, which, af the sound of his footstep, she crushed between her fingers. " "Well, Sir, I must say you deserve some credit for your ingenuity, at all events," replied Jonathan, repressing a smile; "but, before you put out your foot so far, it would have been quite as prudent to consider how you were to draw it back again. “Can you not understand? It is of no use your taking my identity and all the burden of my iniquities upon your dear shoulders if I am to be recognized the moment I show my face in London. I'm a graybeard, an old bachelor; so I am accorded certain privileges. And this damning evidence―’ with a brusque gesture at the portrait ‘―must also be destroyed. Because every mistake you make, for every new mishap, Joe, I take a finger.
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