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. ‘Don’t concern yourself, Hilary. Don’t, don’t say anything now, not anything. She had treated him badly; she had hurt him and her aunt; she had done wrong by their standards, and she would never persuade them that she had done right. F. If I can’t talk anywhere else—I DO want an understanding.
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