" "A clever device," replied Jonathan; "but it won't serve your turn. Then he released her hand, and sat back a little, appearing to concentrate his thoughts on her face. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. When the prisoner was removed from the dock, we met Jonathan as we passed through the yard.
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