” She could not go on, for she was laughing and crying at the same time. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. Upon the pavement near the court lay the porter, who had been prostrated by a blow from the butt-end of a pistol. "You!" cried Jack, scornfully. "And now to see the end of it," said Jonathan, shortly afterwards passing through the window. At Anna’s words she seemed suddenly to stiffen. ” His voice assumed an easy detached tone.
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