"Take her," cried Jonathan; and, flinging the now inanimate body of the poor widow, who had fainted in the struggle, into the arms of Thames, he leapt through the window, and by the time the latter could consign her to Wood, and dart after him, he had disappeared. ‘You don’t favour her, bar the black hair. I didn’t dream, not even in my wildest dreaming, that—you might have any need of me.
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