The temperature soared to one hundred degrees, sickeningly hot. It is no crime, none at all. It was a serene and charming evening, and twilight was gently stealing over the face of the country. "So, stir your stumps, Saint Giles; and, if you mean to lock us up, use despatch. " "We'll see that," replied Jonathan, dealing him another and more violent blow. ‘Oh my God,’ uttered Gerald in some dismay.
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