The sun never shone upon a lovelier couple than now approached the altar. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. "Dare to disobey," continued Jonathan: "neglect my orders, and I will hang you.
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