Jonathan cast a hasty glance around, to see that all was properly arranged for his purpose; placed a chair with its back to the door; disposed the lights on the table so as to throw the entrance of the room more into shadow; and then flung himself into a seat to await Sir Rowland's arrival. It isn’t pretty, but we’re made so. She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him. 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. God, we suck. The twists in his brain had suddenly straightened out; he was normal, wholly himself; and he knew now exactly what he had done.
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