The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. “I speak from my heart, and you answer from your brain. But it was almost choked up with fallen stacks of chimneys, broken beams of timber, and shattered tiles. "Will that do?" he added, returning it. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. "You shall hear," returned Jonathan.
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