"Be silent," said Jonathan, in a menacing whisper. "Done!" cried Shotbolt. A male voice, vibrant with terror, yelled out hoarsely. . " "My God!" cried Trenchard, stunned by the intelligence, "I have killed her. ’ ‘And you are of a disposition entirely untruthful,’ retorted Gerald. Well, come back in half an hour. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery.
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