But ——” A look checked him. Not a word had been exchanged between the two boys on the road. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. "To-night it is their turn," said Jonathan, binding up his wounded fingers with a handkerchief. Don't be afraid—I won't hurt you.
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