The three young men exchanged expressive glances. “Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. She found him reclined, watching television in a small guest room hidden in a back wing of the massive house. I think not, Annabel. There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer. This is part of a dream— some evil fancy.
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