"No, I tell you," rejoined Jonathan, shouldering his way out of the crowd. A single false step might have precipitated him into the street; or, if he had trodden upon an unsound part of the roof, he must have fallen through it. The nuns, they were very good with a whip. When he found himself thinking about it, it upset him so that he at once resorted to distraction. He never said hello, as if it had become a personal taboo for him. ‘But—’ ‘Nothing at all for you to worry your head over,’ said the captain, moving to try and usher her forth. I worship you.
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