“Often,” he repeated, a little heavily. “Because I hate you!” She spat. "Devil!" cried the widow, catching his arm, and gazing with frantic eagerness in his face, "how many years will you give my son before you execute your terrible threat?" "NINE!" answered Jonathan sternly. She felt his tongue press into her mouth. But she did not listen long; she wanted to talk. “If you wish,” he said, “I will go there in the morning and see what can be done for him.
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