His face turned a dark crimson. "If that sickly brat lives to be a man," continued Jonathan, rising, "I'll hang him upon the same tree as his father. You cannot draw. “We always have things out with OUR father, poor dear!” said Hetty. Wood, and you'll find that I've spoken the truth. She disengaged her hands and stood up. "He lives at Dollis Hill, a beautiful spot near Willesden, about four or five miles from town, where he has taken a farm.
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