"As you please, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan, with affected indifference; "but I'm not going to hunt the deer for another to eat the ven'son, depend on 't. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. Melusine feigned a displeased frown.
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