She ought to have leapt back on guard. ‘But I have the pistol,’ Gerald pointed out. My nerves were in rags. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. In the obscurity in which it was now seen, it looked like a prison, and, indeed, it was Jonathan's fancy to make it resemble one as much as possible. "Where is it?" "Are you the mother of this child?" inquired the person who had first spoken, addressing Mrs. He is the one who has said that she must go to the convent.
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