"What do you think of your nephew, Sir Rowland?" whispered Jonathan, who sat with his back towards Thames, so that his features were concealed from the youth's view. “Have you told anybody else?” Lucy asked. He was fast rising to an eminence that no one of his nefarious profession ever reached before him, nor, it is to be hoped, will ever reach again. For heaven’s sake, give him some Madeira or something, Gerald! Anything to calm him down.
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