You understand me, I’m sure. "Drink this," cried Jonathan, handing her the cup. Coldly she spoke, in a distinctly accented voice. "I couldn't bear to see you in it. And if you treat me in this way, you will have my death to answer for, as well as the deaths of my husband and child. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. I can't pump out all there is to these compositions.
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