’ ‘And you believe her?’ asked Lucilla, raising her brows. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual. And if he would, I would not subject him to the annoyance. "Not so, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan; "you are my prisoner.
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