" "Why, what the devil's this?" vociferated Jonathan, looking up. Don’t touch the handle, Annabel! Curse the thing, you’ve jammed it now. Leave the means to me. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. While he was meditating flight in this way, and tossing about on the straw, he chanced upon an old broken and rusty fork. Leave go, I tell you!" and he forced open the knife with his teeth. "Well, like or not, I'm greatly pleased with it, and must beg it from you as a memorial——" "Of what?" she interrupted, startled by his change of manner. Such was the hubbub and tumult around him, that the carpenter could not hear its plunge into the flood.
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