"Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. She felt a little ashamed of herself, a bit of a hypocrite. "Not so, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan; "you are my prisoner. But for now, I’d like to turn in, if you don’t mind. “Uh, can you get me a soda or something?” She said, shielding her exposed teeth with her hand. ’ Both Valade and the granddaughter gazed at him blankly.
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