‘She may well try to go back. Clotilde rushed out of the house, carrying her boy and tugging her girl by the ear. "Where is he?" asked Jonathan. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. His face was downcast. "Ay. A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. It’s a damned hard thing to do. Jonathan mixed with the group, and, sure of his prey, abided his time.
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