"What's that to you?" demanded Jonathan, gruffly. \"Do you mind if I sit with you?\" He asked as he followed her. Don’t think it was anything better than fever—or a bit beautiful. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. Ben had scarcely adjusted his oars, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank.
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