The curtain tinkled as her head brushed it, but he neither saw nor heard. No matter how many books one read, each was different, as each human being was different. Left alone, Jonathan lighted a lamp, and, opening the trap-door, descended the secret stairs. His eyebrows arched, knotting in the middle. Perhaps Gerald was not as clothheaded as he had thought. The fire still burned brightly. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect.
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