" "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. Anna merely glanced at the coarse, flushed features, and at once shook her head. A strong arm pulled her closer, and the lips that mouthed her own in tender touches sent her senses reeling. "Either he or you must return with me," answered Jonathan. The primitive superstition of his Puritan forbears was his; and before this the buckler of his education disintegrated.
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