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He only laughed his defiance. "Where are you going?" cried Thames, who, though wholly disencumbered, was scarcely able to keep up with him. 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. D'ye hear. She turned on the lad with her, who was visibly relieved. Come along, you mad jade.
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