And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. For a long time neither spoke again. ‘Keep your distance! You dare to tell me I cannot refuse?’ He glared at the girl. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. Oh, Jack! repent, while it is yet time, of your evil conduct. She seemed smitten with a paroxysm of fear. Lucy stepped inside. "Give them what you please. No! I do not even know that he cares for me. All the same, I wish I had that fellow by the throat! Just the virile, unregenerate man in me wishes that. \" Lucy shook her hand. “One day,” he resumed, “we will start off early and come down into Kandersteg and up these zigzags and here and here, and so past this Daubensee to a tiny inn—it won’t be busy yet, though; we may get it all to ourselves—on the brim of the steepest zigzag you can imagine, thousands of feet of zigzag; and you will sit and eat lunch with me and look out across the Rhone Valley and over blue distances beyond blue distances to the Matterhorn and Monte Rosa and a long regiment of sunny, snowy mountains.
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