’ With difficulty, Gerald bit back a laugh. He was just getting cross about your being late for dinner—you know his way—when it came. “I love you, Ann Veronica. "I must tell you," she was saying. "Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. "I've said it," rejoined Jonathan, peremptorily. "She may yet be saved. A coach was also in attendance, at a little distance.
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