She felt the bedsprings coil as he moved from his seated position, entranced. " "Traitor!" cried Sir Rowland—"damned—double-dyed traitor!" "Away with him," vociferated Jonathan to his myrmidons, who, having surrounded Trenchard, hurried him off to the coach before he could utter another word,—"first to Mr. F. The curtain tinkled as her head brushed it, but he neither saw nor heard.
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