“I have not quarrelled with her. In the obscurity in which it was now seen, it looked like a prison, and, indeed, it was Jonathan's fancy to make it resemble one as much as possible. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. It did not matter in the least what name the young fellow was travelling under; all James Boyle O'Higgins wanted was the letter H.
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