“Please forgive me—for one moment,” she sobbed. "As you please, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan, with affected indifference; "but I'm not going to hunt the deer for another to eat the ven'son, depend on 't. In after years you can return to your own country—to your friends. ‘You had better kill me, mademoiselle, because otherwise I shall end by strangling you. ” She said to them, raising her head to speak, her voice unsteady. I don't care how lonesome it is.
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