Chapter VII MISS PELLISSIER’S SUSPICIONS “Anna!” Anna kissed her sister and nodded to her aunt. The place pulsed with music too loud to converse above. There was no way to warn her of his presence without startling her. The uproar was tremendous—men yelling— dogs barking,—but above all was heard the stentorian voice of Jonathan, urging them on. Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind. “Earning a salary!” “You’re like a Princess in Exile!” he repeated, overruling her. But the crowning glory of Jonathan, that which raised him above all his predecessors in iniquity, and clothed this name with undying notoriety—was to come. Except that this music we have been swimming in is divine.
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