" "And do you think I'll allow you to depart," cried Jonathan in a menacing tone, "and compromise my safety? No, no. All that he had sown that afternoon with such infinite care was as nothing compared to this seed, cast without forethought. Always as black and bitter as gall. ” He was arrested for a moment by an indistinct picture of Veronica reading this last sentence. She gloried in it: he needed her. " The spinster had no retort to offer such directness.
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