‘I escape from a fate entirely misérable, you understand. Find that boy. No fear o' that. " "Traitor!" cried Sir Rowland—"damned—double-dyed traitor!" "Away with him," vociferated Jonathan to his myrmidons, who, having surrounded Trenchard, hurried him off to the coach before he could utter another word,—"first to Mr. White, my landlady, believes his story. Promise me one thing before I leave you. If I offered you half of my possessions, you'd doubtless wallop me on the jaw. ‘Bring her to me and we shall see. God bless you, Auntie! I'll go into the mills and make pulp with my bare hands, if you want me to. ‘—and I love your raven hair, and your bright blue eyes, and your very kissable lips—’ suiting the action to the words ‘—and I love the crazy way you speak English, and the way you curse at me.
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