‘You’re either mad, or in love. Left alone, Jonathan lighted a lamp, and, opening the trap-door, descended the secret stairs. So often as she had herself manipulated a dagger, she could not mistake the shape that pressured across her chest, or the sharp point that dug below her bosom. At sunset the swarming abruptly ceased; even the sampans appeared to draw closer together, with the quiet of water-fowl. The two great hotels on their right were still ablaze with lights. Surely she could ignore him. Walpole's order to that effect—but not before.
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