Her aunt glanced up startled, and then sat very still, with hands that had ceased to work. “Cut her throat!” Sebastian snapped. " "Away with him!" cried Jonathan. " "You may see the marks on the child yourself, if you choose, Sir," urged the widow. A granddaughter of mine!’ The idiocy of this notion stuck in his craw and he could think of nothing else for a moment. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget.
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