Sheila wouldn’t allow me to date a boy even if he was only fifteen—I mean sixteen, like I am, you see. "Look at him!" Ruth looked. "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. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag.
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