“And I’m not happy. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. Apparently, Jonathan perceived he was an object of scrutiny; for, hastily dismissing his attendant, he walked towards the knight. Clarice rubbed her belly, singing songs to the unborn baby. It was an odd room, used principally for the reception of guests and visiting dignitaries, packed from end to end with ill-assorted sofas and padded chairs. I meant to lie to you.
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