"Enough!" cried Jonathan, eagerly pocketing the memorandum. I would not think so of you, Marthe. Perhaps my wife has already prepared you for what I wish to say. Daughters were not like sons. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city at night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it!' … It kind of terrifies me," said Ruth, looking up, first at the face of her husband, then at McClintock's. Forster? News is expected from Northumberland.
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