Her lover, Darrell, has embarked upon the Thames, where, if he's not capsized by the squall, (for it's blowing like the devil,) he stands a good chance of getting his throat cut by his pursuers—ha! ha! I tracked 'em to the banks of the river, and should have followed to see it out, if the watermen hadn't refused to take me. Die game. They were very nice about it, in memory of your father. She was saying good-bye to childhood and home, and her making; she was going out into the great, multitudinous world; this time there would be no returning.
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