F. "Who? Jack!" exclaimed Jonathan. You are the woman I love, Anna. Her natural instincts reasserted themselves. With a gesture which was without any kind of emotional expression, the manager indicated the silent crumpled figure on the floor and gave the room number. For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. A chill ran through his frame, and, grasping the heavy weapon with which chance had provided him, prepared to strike down the first person who should enter the cell.
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