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Jonathan caught her in his arms. “Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. "We must keep still. I—well, I lost my temper. And mind, your life,—more than your life—hangs upon your choice. You shall lie upon your back; your head shall be covered; and your feet shall be bare. Lights gleamed from the lower rooms, and, on a nearer approach to the building, the sound of revelry might be heard from within.

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