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"I'll be his evil genius!" vociferated Jonathan, who seemed to enjoy her torture. Usually his charges bored him with their interrogative chatter, for he knew that his information more often than not went into one ear and out of the other. Immediately a feathered hat emerged, under which a familiar countenance was visible. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed.
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