Strongly impregnated with the mingled odours of tobacco, ale, brandy, and other liquors, the atmosphere was almost stifling. She felt her forehead repeatedly break out in a light sweat. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. "I took the course I pursued to serve you. I haven't forgotten her previous history. ’ A gleam of rare humour slid into Charvill’s chest. . ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. But never had the hand touched her with a father's caress; never had he taken her into his arms; never had he kissed her. "Do not—do not!" "He must!" thundered Jonathan, "or he goes to jail. ‘I only wish I might have won her confidence. Perhaps I'd better open it now.
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