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'No, Gid--no, my dear nephew,' said Mr Bloomfield, with the voice of one
on the rack. 'I regard you with the most sacred affection; and I thank
God I am an Englishman--and all that. But not--not the police, Gid.'
'Then you desert me?' said Gideon. 'Say it plainly.'
'Far from it! far from it!' protested Mr Bloomfield. 'I only propose
caution. Common sense, Gid, should always be an Englishman's guide.'
'Will you let me speak?' said Julia. 'I think Gideon had better leave
this dreadful houseboat, and wait among the willows over there. If the
piano comes, then he could step out and take it in; and if the police
come, he could slip into our houseboat, and there needn't be any
more Jimson at all. He could go to bed, and we could burn his clothes
(couldn't we?) in the steam-launch; and then really it seems as if it
would be all right. Mr Bloomfield is so respectable, you know, and such
a leading character, it would be quite impossible even to fancy that he
could be mixed up with it.'
'This young lady has strong common sense,' said the Squirradical.
'O, I don't think I'm at all a fool,' said Julia, with conviction.
'But what if neither of them come?' asked Gideon; 'what shall I do
then?'
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