” Her answer was terse. "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. She took refuge in beating her pillow and inventing insulting epithets for herself. 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.
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