human
I give five minutes to retract your mistake. A few pencil-scrawls are not worth a life. Only five minutes, my dear Miss Walsingham.
gpt
If I yielded, would I be safer than if I was obstinate? she thought, crushing the scraps in her hand.
human
No, what are _his_ assurances? Lies to lull me to sleep. Let me drive my foe to open enmity--let me goad him to his ruin, or mine, if God so forgets me, but I will never give up this evidence of his guilt. She held aloft, with wild triumph, the green note-book.
gpt
Do your worst to Margaret Walsingham, you monster, but you will not get St. Udo's right out of her faithful hands. My five minutes of grace are slipping away, and I am going to defy him. I will pray Heaven to protect me, and--I will do my duty.