“Please forgive me. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. Each morning his inquiry was properly answered: the patient was steadily improving, but none could say when he would be strong enough to proceed upon his journey. It was a serene and charming evening, and twilight was gently stealing over the face of the country. "Dare to disobey," continued Jonathan: "neglect my orders, and I will hang you. It is no good waiving the thing; it is true.
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