"Certainly," replied Jonathan, with the most perfect sangfroid, "I'll undertake to free you from the boy. He was into the passage in time to see her slip into another chamber at the end. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. So she took up Stevenson and began to read aloud. “You permitted me then to call you my friend. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes.
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