"'Sblood!" exclaimed Jonathan, hastily thrusting the ring into his vest, and taking up a heavy horseman's pistol with which he had felled Blueskin,—"I thought you'd been senseless. Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. ‘You, Mademoiselle Charvill, are as unlike most of your sex as you can be. She found herself anxious to read more of him, and the next Wednesday she went to the British Museum and hunted first among the half-crown magazines for his essays and then through various scientific quarterlies for his research papers.
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