He turned to observe what this object was that had so unexpectedly diverted the young man's attention. What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest. "And there you're right, you may dipind, marm," observed Terence. Jonathan threw open the street-door. McClintock could not browbeat him, storm as he might. Seeing the footman about to follow her in, Gerald clamped a hand onto his shoulder.
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