But if I escape, my gratitude—" "Pshaw!" interrupted Jonathan, scornfully. He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely. When I think of the love you give me—One ought to give you back love. ‘Pray you, mademoiselle, can you not—’ ‘No use trying to enlist Lucilla’s aid,’ snapped Roding. ‘But you have told them that I have been disguised, no? That I have broken into Remenham House, and—’ ‘No, no, child, don’t be alarmed,’ said her great-aunt, her tone soothing.
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