I asked you to go. But I am not indisposed to gratify you. Her lover, Darrell, has embarked upon the Thames, where, if he's not capsized by the squall, (for it's blowing like the devil,) he stands a good chance of getting his throat cut by his pursuers—ha! ha! I tracked 'em to the banks of the river, and should have followed to see it out, if the watermen hadn't refused to take me. ‘And so?’ she asked. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. Horrible!" "Poor soul! her senses are going again," said Mr.
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