"Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. To win the contest meant you would be chosen to apprentice in magic as a priest under her tutelage. “Only four spoonsful left,” she declared briskly, “and your turn to buy the next pound, Sydney. It has. God! I have cheated myself into a belief that the boy perished! And now my worst fears are realized —he lives!" "As yet," returned Jonathan, with fearful emphasis.
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