"Thames, I entreat—" "Your wishes are my laws, beloved, girl," replied Kneebone, bowing profoundly. Kneebone, who was on the point of departing. It ought not to be much. "It is never too late. ” She sniffled. She too had seen. " "And with some justice," replied Thornhill, drily. Her lover, Darrell, has embarked upon the Thames, where, if he's not capsized by the squall, (for it's blowing like the devil,) he stands a good chance of getting his throat cut by his pursuers—ha! ha! I tracked 'em to the banks of the river, and should have followed to see it out, if the watermen hadn't refused to take me. Her unnatural calm was giving way.
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