She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. If nothing else had clinched that, the purse had. "Take her," cried Jonathan; and, flinging the now inanimate body of the poor widow, who had fainted in the struggle, into the arms of Thames, he leapt through the window, and by the time the latter could consign her to Wood, and dart after him, he had disappeared. Her life hangs upon a thread, and this may snap it. Her hand came up and she laced her fingers with his. But, egad! I believe he will.
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