He returned to attend the funeral. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. ‘Her own,’ Gerald replied. It was late before Jonathan ventured to his own house, where he remained up all night, and kept his janizaries and other assistants well armed. "Put up your blade, Sir Rowland," rejoined Jonathan, resuming his former calm demeanour, "King James the Third will need it.
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