Having seen him heavily ironed, and placed in the Condemned Hold, Jonathan recrossed the street. Now, it was a wilderness of weeds. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. Grasping one of chairs about the little table, he drew it forward and sat astride it, in a fashion as insolent as it was unexpected. Not even, it seemed, this interfering monsieur le major.
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