"I have never been out of this horrible dungeon since we last met," he said; "though how long ago that is, I scarcely know. Though it’s very kind of you. Caution forced her to speak calmly. "Drink this," cried Jonathan, handing her the cup. But his grief was of short duration. ” The sensation produced was gratifying enough. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living.
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