"It's the boy's death-warrant," observed Jonathan, with a sinister smile. When the lad is fit to be moved, we’ll bring him home. " He rose for fear she might touch him again. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. To many in that crowded solitude it came as an extraordinary relief. ‘How fascinating.
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