Holding the lamp over her rigid but beautiful features, Jonathan, with some anxiety, placed his hand upon her breast to ascertain whether the heart still beat. But, as soon as he perceived who it was, he roused himself, and glared fiercely at the intruder from under his bent brows. ‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live. Let's get one idea into our heads. ” “Why?” she asked.
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