Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. “You won’t give me away, Anna. " "You would purchase it at the price of your head," replied Jonathan, knitting his brows. Just a friendly polite suggestion. Nor, he would wager, had the heroic Monsieur Valade, who had rescued her from that life and brought her to England, taught her in that short time all that Gerald was certain she knew of men. But he would make it a point not to speak again to the girl. He fancied that when they had had time to reflect, they would regret it still more. She would be enduing this chap with attributes he did not possess, clothing him in fictional ruffles. Lucy's ears were singing.
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