Jonathan threw open the street-door. She doesn't love you; she hasn't the least idea what it means beyond what she has read in novels. E. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. He seemed to know a great deal about life. There was nothing on her face to hint of the misery that brimmed her heart this morning.
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