It seemed as if each time her imagination reached out investingly, an invisible lash beat it back. ” He raised his hand, and they saw that he was holding a small revolver. "We have him!" cried Jonathan, hurrying down the steps. “I’m sorry! Mary! Are you hurt?” “No. ” “Yes. But, bloodan'-'ouns! man, if ould Nick himself were to hit me a blow, I'd be afther givin' him another.
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