Her head felt absurdly like one of those noddling manikins in the Hong-Kong curio-shops. Swinging her arm in an arc, she let go of the foil and it flew across the chapel towards the main door, crashing down between the pews, and clattering onto the floor. There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer. "There it is!" cried Sir James, eagerly.
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