" "You'll dance upon nothing, presently," rejoined Jonathan, brutally. The trio exhibited that indecisive air with which Ah Cum was tolerably familiar. I will do all this not because I love you, but—because you are Anna’s sister. To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. You must forgive the poet’s license I take.
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