She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. "Certainly," replied Jonathan, with the most perfect sangfroid, "I'll undertake to free you from the boy. Then her white teeth gleamed, and her excuse for remaining any longer before that little marble table was gone. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke. In this attempt he was, however, foiled by the agility of the carpenter, who managed to retreat to the door, against which he placed his back, kicking the boards vigorously with his heel.
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