I can no longer bear to address you by that formal madame. All the fury had left her, swamped by an inexplicable flood of warmth. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. Her eyes still had the fevered glow of sickness, yet she seemed in perfect health. As soon as he was gone, Jonathan went up stairs to the audience-chamber; and, sitting down, appeared for some time buried in reflection. "Hurrah!" shouted he, waving his hat triumphantly over his head.
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