. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. On their return, the jailers raised up Jonathan, who was weltering in his blood, and who appeared to be dying. It felt too good. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. Ruth met him in the hall as he was following his family into the dining room.
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