" "By my soul, no," replied Jonathan, with affected sincerity. She dropped beside the chair, sat cross-legged, and laughed at the futile jade-coloured wall. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. Her hair touched water, becoming like the seaweed in its velvet slickness. Taking a firm grasp of his pistol, Gerald eased back, let go the handle of the door, and at the same instant, swung his booted foot.
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