I'm not quite such a greenhorn as Shotbolt, Jack, whatever you may think. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. "What's the matter?" demanded Jonathan, harshly. Sebastian, as doctor, was constantly around the sick and the dying.
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