“I suppose you’re like the rest of them. But if I escape, my gratitude—" "Pshaw!" interrupted Jonathan, scornfully. For that my father so stupide was in love with this Suzanne Valade, is it not?’ ‘Well, miss,’ temporised Mrs Ibstock, ‘we didn’t rightly know that then. I needed a man the worst kind of way—a man I could keep for at least six months. Even in death, Vorsack was not a man. Guided by the glare of the forge, which threw a stream of ruddy light across the road, Jack soon found the place of which he was in search. “What are your objections?” she said. Jonathan's vexation at the disappointment was expressed in the bitterest imprecations, and he returned as speedily as he could to the trench.
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