"So you're writing under a nom de plume, eh?" said McClintock, holding out the letter. For the young, immortality must seem promising, even wonderful! The grass is always greener on the other side. "Ah! now we come to business," returned Jonathan, rubbing his hands, gleefully. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression. This was no night for the indulgence of dreamy musing.
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