Advancing towards Wood, Jonathan fixed his keen gray eyes upon him, and demanded, in a stern tone whether the persons who had taken refuge in the adjoining house, were bailiffs. They put her down, and she leaped at them; she smote a helmet to the ground. "Think not to deceive me, monster. . ‘Typical. And this great mellow place, this London, now was hers, to struggle with, to go where she pleased in, to overcome and live in. "I am," replied Jonathan, following him, "and so," he added in an undertone, "are your captors.
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