"Ay, robbed him," reiterated Jonathan. He was always drawing contrasts between a woman’s lot and a man’s, and treating her as a wonderful new departure in this comparison. “Are you cold?” He asked her, cocking his head to one side like a puppy, so close that the heat of his words warmed her cheek. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support. So far she had not heard the sound of his voice.
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