“Of course,” he ventured, “I could try for more at the ‘Alhambra. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer. The ladies can't sleep in their beds for him; and as to the men, they daren't go to bed at all.
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