"I've said it," rejoined Jonathan, peremptorily. He began to think of speeches, very firm, explicit speeches, he would make. He turned to observe what this object was that had so unexpectedly diverted the young man's attention. “You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard.
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