"Certainly," replied Jonathan, with the most perfect sangfroid, "I'll undertake to free you from the boy. " "Ay, marry," replied Wood, with a look that seemed to say that he did not think it required any surprising skill in the art of divination to predict the doom of the individual in question; but whatever opinion he might entertain, he contented himself with inquiring into the grounds of the conjuror's evil augury respecting the infant. My boys are all Sandwich Island born. You know I am in love with you.
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