Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. "Whose child can this be?" "How the devil should I know!" replied Jonathan gruffly. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. " "Thames!" "You seem to doubt my love," he continued,—"you seem to think that change of circumstances may produce some change in my affections.
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