The figure of the girl upon it in plain black dress, standing with her hands behind her, was an undeniable and astonishing likeness of herself. Sir John felt hot and furious. But these fears, like those he had recently experienced, speedily vanished, and he prepared to return to the roof, congratulating himself that owing to the opportune falling of the bricks, he had in all probability escaped serious injury. From his wallet he brought forth a yellow letter. The boat rocked violently with the struggle. I'd like to shake you until your bones rattled; but the bones of a Roundhead wouldn't rattle to any purpose. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. One never knew when it would be necessary to resume her disguise. I have a weapon—a knife—and if you attempt to open the door, will plunge it to my heart.
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