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"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. Crouching down, Gerald waited, hands at the ready. “What can one do?” asked Ann Veronica. ‘But my poor Jacques is wounded and—’ ‘All taken care of,’ interrupted Hilary. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. To prevent the leaves from blowing about, should a blow develop, he distributed paper weights. “Why on earth,” he asked, “did you hurt me like that?” Ann Veronica did her best to think she had not deliberately attempted to cause him pain. A severe pang shot through Jack's heart, and he would have given worlds if he possessed them to have seen his friend once more. ‘Fiddle, Gerald.
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