“Excuse me a moment. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. “Allow me. Her lover, Darrell, has embarked upon the Thames, where, if he's not capsized by the squall, (for it's blowing like the devil,) he stands a good chance of getting his throat cut by his pursuers—ha! ha! I tracked 'em to the banks of the river, and should have followed to see it out, if the watermen hadn't refused to take me. Wood, "and take your son with you. There sprang from that a vague hope that perhaps she might extort a capitulation from her father by a threat to seek that position, and then with overwhelming clearness it came to her that whatever happened she would never be able to tell her father about her debt. Sir James Thornhill, then, rose. " "My son!" echoed the widow, trembling.
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