Abruptly he gripped her wrist. There was a hint of tears in her voice. “Please stop, cabman,” she ordered. While he was dragged along in the manner just described, Thames looked around to ascertain, if possible, where he was; for he did not put entire faith in Jonathan's threat of sending him to the round-house, and apprehensive of something even worse than imprisonment. She seemed to have recovered herself as he returned, but rose as if she would go back to the saloon. She felt him as something solid and strong and trustworthy beyond measure. The second look told me I was wrong. We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses. —'They have,' says he.
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