Sheppard, falling on her knees. There is the election——” He laughed derisively. "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. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors.
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