Jonathan's wicked threat is fulfilled at last. The young lady with frizzled hair, whom Brendon had pointed out to her as Miss Ellicot, leaned forward from her hostess’s side. " He rose for fear she might touch him again. Not MY affair. The agony on the sands now ceased to puzzle her. Under this unnerving scrutiny, a slow flush mounted to the woman’s cheeks. He used to call it his fire-escape—ha! ha! I've often used the ladder for my own convenience, but I never expected to turn it to such good account. I've told you about him; and you wrote a shrewd yarn on the subject.
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