Her tone was hoarse with passion. "Drink this," cried Jonathan, handing her the cup. Jeez! It was about time. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. ” She looked at him, pleading, miserable in her fancy gown.
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