You did not complain then that I personated you—no, nor when Sir John came to me in Paris, and for your sake I lied. She helped Jack to sit down, and dragged the jacket off him, lifting his shirt to expose the gash that had sliced across his side. "Not so, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan; "you are my prisoner. Her eyes were wide and bright. " "My strength fails me," gasped the fugitive.
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