She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. There was something in Jonathan's manner, as he issued this command, that struck the man as singular, and he afterwards recalled it. ‘Can you not open it?’ she cried. Gave me a purse, and told me to take both of ’em up to Harwich and put them on a packet for Holland. Opening her large black eyes, she fixed them upon him for a moment with a mixture of terror and loathing, and then averted her gaze. There are men in the Lowndean who laugh at him—simply laugh at him.
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