Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. She had not chosen her life, but she was foggy on whether or not it was right to deny others the right to join her in her suffering. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. "What do you think of your nephew, Sir Rowland?" whispered Jonathan, who sat with his back towards Thames, so that his features were concealed from the youth's view.
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