Rollo barked. "Too late!" shrieked the lady, falling heavily backwards,—"too late!—oh!" Heedless of her cries, Jonathan passed a handkerchief tightly over her son's mouth, and forced him out of the room. "Those chops, fried potatoes, and buttered toast. Couldn’t make head nor tail of that note of yours. Then she turned, and entering the inner room, commenced to dress hastily for the street. You are to remain here until you are well.
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