" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. “Now you must go,” she said firmly. ’ ‘Was it?’ Her lips twitched. Her long incarceration at the convent in Blaye had taught her to be dismissive of her own appearance. "And now to see the end of it," said Jonathan, shortly afterwards passing through the window. Gazing at her with eyes blinded with tears, he imprinted one brotherly kiss upon her lips.
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