He felt her relaxation and let go of her wrists. "Be silent," said Jonathan, in a menacing whisper. “I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. Wood, popping her head through the window.
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