The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. Little by little, she stopped hating him. Only an undermaid I was then. And lunged once more. He was not, in truth, much of a ladies’ man. He was every bit as much a pig as this Emile. ‘Gabbling and muttering in a foreign tongue, that’s what I heard, sir,’ had declared the gap-toothed ancient, when he told them of the initial foray he had made, sneaking around the house in the dark. “Fancy stabbing a man for jealousy!” she thought. But this plan (probably from its danger) was instantly abandoned; not, however, before her momentary hesitation had been taken advantage of by her pursuers, who, redoubling their efforts at this juncture, materially lessened the distance between them. "At least I'll try," replied Jonathan, sarcastically. ” He paced the room for a minute or two restlessly.
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