The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. "Not so, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan; "you are my prisoner. ’ ‘Don’t count on it. "Eh-day! what's this?" cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. "If I am the devil," observed Wild, "as some folks assert, and I myself am not unwilling to believe, you'll find that I differ from the generally-received notions of the arch-fiend, and faithfully execute the commands of those who confide their souls to my custody.
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