“Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. Well, I don't blame you on that ground. Winifred listened to his narration with the profoundest attention; and, when it concluded, her tearful eye and throbbing bosom told how deeply her feelings had been interested. "'Sblood! what's this!" cried Jonathan, in the utmost surprise.
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