Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. Closing the door, Jonathan next produced his lantern, and, hastening towards the window, undrew a bolt by which it was fastened. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. He still watched her and questioned her.
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