It was a serene and charming evening, and twilight was gently stealing over the face of the country. " "Nonsense," returned Jonathan gruffly. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. Indeed I am! I would make this country a collective monarchy, and all the girls and women in it should be the Queen. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. She had come to the end of her resources.
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