“This ain’t no place for you. Closing the door, Jonathan next produced his lantern, and, hastening towards the window, undrew a bolt by which it was fastened. Crossing several fields, newly mown, or filled with lines of tedded hay, she arrived, not without great exertion, at the summit of a hill. Neither Charvill nor his heir know anything of your presence in England. She got up, put the neat cuffs she had made into her work-basket, and went to the bureau for the little cards in the morocco case. The touch of his lips neither thrilled nor alarmed her, because the eyes that looked into hers were clean. ‘Do that again,’ he said softly, ‘and I’ll make you sorry you ever came to England. For such of us as pretend to be wise—and we are but fools in a lesser degree—we know that humanity moves onward only by the impellant of fine dreams. " CHAPTER V. 8 or 1.
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