Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. "Well, you women are forgiving creatures, I must say," observed Jonathan, sarcastically. A crowd was collected round the fellow, who was rapidly disposing of his stock. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. Oh! Jack, Jack, you've much to answer for!" "I have, indeed," replied Sheppard, in a tone of contrition. Jack, who had been lingering near the group, now walked on.
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