It is better as it is. But her cries, instead of moving her assailant's compassion, only added to his fury. He rang the doorbell, even though she had already cracked the door for him. So dreadful were these shouts as to produce an effect upon the hardened feelings of Jonathan, who shrank out of sight. You did not say a word about it last week, nor have you written. She caught at the idea. Her eyes were soft and blue, arched over by dark brows, and fringed by long silken lashes. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. A dreamy sense of content crept over him. Still, his conscience was partly satisfied.
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