"My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. “I wonder,” he said, “is there anything we could do to help you to get rid of him?” “Can you think of anything?” Anna answered. "You must not remain here," he said. "You lie, hussy!" replied Jonathan, rudely pushing her aside, as she vainly endeavoured to oppose his entrance into the room; "she is here. “Go it, miss!” cried one. Andrew's church, the bell of which was tolling, was covered with spectators.
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