"Not a moment is to be lost," whispered Jonathan to Trenchard. ” “Thank you, Jane. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. Time wore on somewhat slowly with the prisoner, who had to control his impatience in the best way he could; but as the shades of evening were darkening, the door was unlocked, and Mr. From the first there had always been between her and her listeners that electrical sympathy which only a certain order of genius seems able to create.
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