I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales. ” “I’m not. . . . Jonathan cast a hasty glance around, to see that all was properly arranged for his purpose; placed a chair with its back to the door; disposed the lights on the table so as to throw the entrance of the room more into shadow; and then flung himself into a seat to await Sir Rowland's arrival. Concealed among the trees that edged the estate grounds, the watchers paused. He looked up to see an ancient coach making its ponderous way down the street. He and her father shook hands manfully. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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