To vault over the pews was the work of a moment; and having gained the entry leading to the Red Room he passed through the first door; his progress being only impeded by the pile of broken stones, which he himself had raised. “We were bound to do this when you kissed me,” she sobbed through her tears. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. It was a spring-tide at half ebb; and the current, which was running fast and furiously, bore him instantly away.
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