" "No; she accepts it," rejoined Jonathan, triumphantly. ‘Now then, girl. “None, I thank you,” he answered. " "Where's Mr. I don’t want to tear at you with hot, rough hands. Some day I may forgive you; but not now. “He looks as though he did, at any rate. It’s on the horse. ‘Come, cry a truce. "I am," replied Jonathan, following him, "and so," he added in an undertone, "are your captors. Her evident terror and distress reinforced the tale he told.
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