When the carpenter concluded his recital, Jonathan was for a moment lost in reflection. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. How could she tell him what indeed already began to puzzle herself, why she had borrowed that money at all? The plain fact was that she had grabbed a bait. Do I blow off the head of a man with whom I am in love?’ ‘That,’ said Gerald, disengaging his hand and at last drawing her into his arms, ‘deserves a reward.
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