What sort of a standard of life yours may be I do not know, yet in your heart you know very well that every word you have spoken to me has been a veiled insult, every time you have come into my presence has been an outrage. She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself. “Please stop fighting me. "What of that," rejoined Jonathan. ‘Comment? What do you wish?’ ‘What the devil do you think you’re up to now, I’d like to know?’ Her eyes flashed.
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