"It's the boy's death-warrant," observed Jonathan, with a sinister smile. It generalized everything she put to it. The poor old imbecile! Why, this child was a firebrand, a wrecker, if ever he had seen one; and the worst kind because she was unconscious of her gifts. Upon my word, Anna,” she declared, with a strange little laugh, “you are a thousand times more like me as I was two months ago than I am myself. Jonathan, though a very powerful man, was like an infant in his gripe. His mother smiled in return, an act that brightened her thin face. Then Valade—was the man as big a fool as Nicholas?—tried again. “Hill gradually recovering consciousness. “Do something!” But he laid by his prey, half-watching the fight, gorging on the woman he had caught that had been meant for Rhea and her child.
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