"I am," replied Jonathan, following him, "and so," he added in an undertone, "are your captors. We aren’t worth it. All the influences about her worked with her own predisposition and against all the traditions of her home and upbringing to deal with the facts of life in an unabashed manner. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods.
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