"Save me!—save me!" "Damnation!" vociferated Jonathan, savagely. "Ah! Terry O'Flaherty!" he cried, shouting after the Irishman, who took to his heels as soon as he found his murderous attempt unsuccessful; "you may run, but you'll not get out of my reach. It was so easy to forget the imminent threats of being discovered during times of peace. A lucky escape. How's that strike you?" "Very well, sir. Yes, I can readily believe it. God, Lucy, what’s it been, how many years?” “I’m so sorry, John. "At present under the care of his preserver—one Owen Wood, a carpenter, by whom he was brought up. "From Lady Trafford's, where I took the box.
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