He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill. "At a place we call the Dark House at Queenhithe," answered Jonathan, "a sort of under-ground tavern or night-cellar, close to the river-side, and frequented by the crew of the Dutch skipper, to whose care he's to be committed. But when she learns that you are a fugitive from justice…. ‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it. “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. Leonardo was to me nothing at all.
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