As his death was by no means what Jonathan desired, he resolved to remove him to a more airy ward, and afford him such slight comforts as might tend to his restoration, or at least keep him alive until the period of execution. Grasping one of chairs about the little table, he drew it forward and sat astride it, in a fashion as insolent as it was unexpected. You won't have him long. Gerald’s judgement was borne out a moment later. He was in misery; he was paying for last night's debauch. Her life hangs upon a thread, and this may snap it. He leaned forward to embrace her.
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