She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. Having accomplished his intent, Gerald let the lad go and had himself driven back to Stratton Street. Suddenly she felt her wrist grasped by a strong hand. "But we must be getting along if we are to lunch in the tower of the water-clock. Still—you must learn for yourself. Melusine dashed them away, but they kept on coming. The ruffian's companions took his part. "Humph!" exclaimed Jonathan, doubtfully.
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