He seemed to possess infinite reserves of patience when she refused him or purposely tried to bait and anger him, but his patience only made him seem more sinister. His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed. What he needed most in this hour was a bottle of American rye-whisky and a friendly American bar-keep to talk to. "Hell's curses!" muttered Jonathan between his teeth; "that fool will ruin all.
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