"Too late!" shrieked the lady, falling heavily backwards,—"too late!—oh!" Heedless of her cries, Jonathan passed a handkerchief tightly over her son's mouth, and forced him out of the room. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. She shuddered; the room was unfamiliar and unwelcoming. ‘And I don’t mind telling you it goes agin’ the grain with me to let you go free and all, missie.
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