"Oh, God! that I might die too," cried Jack, falling on his knees beside her. Be so good as to let me pass, sir,” she added, looking her obstructor steadily in the face. But whatever she may have said was lost as Gerald pinned her to the wall, the point of the sword at her throat. Warding off the blows as well as he could with the bar, Jack struck both the horses on the head, and the animals plunged so violently, that they not only prevented their riders from assailing him, but also kept off the hostlers; and, in the confusion that ensued, Jack managed to spring over the fence, and shaped his course across the field in the direction of Sir John Oldcastle's. Yet he’s been here for six years, and he’s as much a fixture as that sham mahogany sideboard. ” “Well?” “Lunch! I am hungry—tragically hungry.
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