On their return, the jailers raised up Jonathan, who was weltering in his blood, and who appeared to be dying. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. She held it by the neck and broke the end of the bottle on the hard dirt. A tarnish of constraint that had recently spread over her intercourse with Capes vanished again.
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