"Be silent," said Jonathan, striding deliberately into the room; "these cries will avail you nothing. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. Give him this letter, child, and bid him take it to the Lodge at Newgate without loss of time. Don't worry about me. Would you tell her … now?" his eyes flaming with mockery. A sophisticated woman would have translated the tone as a caress.
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