I'm a poor nurse. Her softly intertwined fingers became rigid. She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. She pawed at him, her hunger for his body making her dizzy with anticipation. "As you please, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan, with affected indifference; "but I'm not going to hunt the deer for another to eat the ven'son, depend on 't. But ——” A look checked him. And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door.
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