" "You'd better hold your peace, my lad," observed Jonathan, in a menacing tone. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. She shattered the edifice he was building up of himself as a devoted lover, waiting only his chance to win her from a hopeless and consuming passion. He left the room, presumably to sleep elsewhere, but the only other room with a fire was the servant’s quarters.
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