Anna, quitting her chair, dropped on her knees by her sister’s side and took her hand. "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. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. I cannot work, I cannot teach. I believe I am doomed to be an old maid. Montague Hill was taken for the millionaire once or twice, and I suppose it flattered his vanity.
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