"As you please, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan, with affected indifference; "but I'm not going to hunt the deer for another to eat the ven'son, depend on 't. Stanley decided to treat that as irrelevant. They were standing face to face now upon the hearthrug. I shouldn't care to have attention constantly drawn to us. Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk. Her knees shook, her breath came fast, she almost felt the lurid effect of those tiny patches of rouge upon her pallor-stricken cheeks. Here her strength completely failed her, and she was compelled to seek some repose.
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