"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. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. When she tried to speak she found it difficult. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. What he told the vicomte I was not privileged to learn. What was his astonishment to recognise in the few words they uttered the voices of Kneebone and Winifred! The latter was apparently in great distress, and the former seemed to be using his best efforts to relieve her anxiety. Give way, and let us render what assistance we can to the poor wretch. The chair had extension arms over which a man might comfortably dangle his legs. Warm reality was now so near her she could hear it beating in her ears. Yesterday!—who cared? To-morrow!—who knew? "Porpoise," she said, touching his hand.
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