A glance satisfied Jonathan that the turnkey was not aware of the prisoner's escape; and he resolved not to destroy what he considered a good jest, by a premature disclosure of it. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse.
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