” “But don’t you see how I must stand to you? Don’t you see how it bars us from being lovers—You can’t—at first. Her interest grew as she read, a certain distaste disappeared. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. "Not so, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan; "you are my prisoner. She distinctly shivered as he forced her to look at him.
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