Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind. He touched it again, and this time it was not withdrawn. "Enough!" cried Jonathan, eagerly pocketing the memorandum. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. After all, that was life. “It’s all dirt that washes off, dear, but it’s dirt.
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