But why do you ask?" "Because—" stammered the boy. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. What reassured her, however, more than anything else, was the shape of the mouth: it was warmly turned. "Do not—do not!" "He must!" thundered Jonathan, "or he goes to jail. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene.
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