The clanking of chains, the grating of locks, and the rumbling of bolts must have been music in Jonathan's ears, so much pains did he take to subject himself to such sounds. Have I your final answer?" "You have, Sir Rowland," she answered, in a feeble tone, but firmly. “I can sing the songs ‘Alcide’ sang, and in the same style. "I'll be his evil genius!" vociferated Jonathan, who seemed to enjoy her torture. ‘He’d have been that happy if he’d known how you’re the spit of her, miss.
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