Planting his knee against her side, he pulled her towards him with one hand, while with the other he sought his knife. He was manifestly exerting his mind for her, and she found herself fully disposed to justify his interest. You've nothing to do but to take possession. Take, if you please, your own pistol. Jonathan's vexation at the disappointment was expressed in the bitterest imprecations, and he returned as speedily as he could to the trench. The Night-Cellar.
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