"Your son," replied Jack,—"your miserable, repentant son. " "Sir Rowland," said Jonathan, turning to the knight, "will it please you to remain here till I return, or will you accompany us?" "I will go with you," answered Trenchard, who, by this time, had regained his composure, and with it all his relentlessness of purpose. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. In the obscurity in which it was now seen, it looked like a prison, and, indeed, it was Jonathan's fancy to make it resemble one as much as possible. "Thames!—Thames!" cried Winifred, rushing to the window. “I had no idea that it was so abominably late.
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