And pouring the contents of a small powderflask into a bumper of brandy, he tendered him the mixture. “My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive. She sat perfectly still, however. He was in misery; he was paying for last night's debauch. Wood's at Dollis Hill, wholly unsuspicious of any designs against him, and, in fact, entirely ignorant of your being acquainted with his return, or even of his existence. Jonathan aimed a blow at him, which, if it had taken place, must have instantly terminated the strife; but, avoiding this, he sprang at the thief-taker, and grappled with him.
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