Supper was quickly served; the oldest bottle of wine was brought from the cellar; the strongest barrel of ale was tapped; but not one of the party could eat or drink—their hearts were too full. She dismissed the idea of doing so. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. "I am," replied Jonathan, following him, "and so," he added in an undertone, "are your captors.
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