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"Not so, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan; "you are my prisoner. She had even confided to him how lonely it was in the island. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. He may have resources of which we know nothing," the doctor added optimistically. He talked with his manner gentle and kindly.
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