He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. "Devil!" cried the widow, catching his arm, and gazing with frantic eagerness in his face, "how many years will you give my son before you execute your terrible threat?" "NINE!" answered Jonathan sternly. " "You don't have to. But if not himself, there would be another soon enough. Things happen out this way.
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