He perceived, however, that both the novels he read and the world he lived in discountenanced these assumptions. "I thought as much," continued Jonathan. "It won't do, widow," said he, drawing near her, while she shrank from his approach, "so you may spare your breath. It seemed at first the most beautiful afternoon of all time to her, and perhaps the thrill of her excitement did add a distinctive and culminating keenness to the day. Blue Ruin will do the job nicely. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. But that, and that sort of thing, is just a day-dream. ‘Don’t try to turn it off,’ ordered Miss Froxfield. He started a dozen stories, but they all ended in the waste-basket. Yes, yes, there is no doubt about it. I feel a mixture of beast and uncle.
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